


Labyrinth of Chaos

by Shadowlurker13



Category: Chronicles of Amber - Roger Zelazny, Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Adventure, Fantasy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 05:12:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 241,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11120619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowlurker13/pseuds/Shadowlurker13
Summary: Sarah Williams thought her Labyrinth troubles were over, only to find herself in a much bigger game...





	1. A Curious Intervention

Labyrinth of Chaos  
  
Chapter 1 - A Curious Intervention  
  
Author’s Note: I’m sure that certain parts of this story are going to be old hat for the few but proud Amberites reading this crossover, but for the benefit of my protagonist (and the Listians/Labyrinthians of Shadow Earth not familiar with the One…er… **looks over shoulder, sees nodding** …Two True Realms), a certain amount of the basics are going to be rehashed up front so nobody’s confused later. Sit tight - the action picks up in chapter two. Enjoy!  
  
(prelude music: Tori Amos, Boys for Pele – ‘Horses’)  
________________________________________________________________________  
  
With a gasp, Sarah Williams abruptly awoke and sat bolt up, panting, her brow drenched with a cold sweat. With an annoyed groan she collapsed back onto the mattress, catching her breath. The nightmares had started the very night she had journeyed to the Labyrinth, stood up to the Goblin King, and rescued her baby brother. But these dreams were not of brick and mortar, hallways that zigzagged and ran onto infinity for no other reason than they could. They weren’t of armed goblins and other far stranger creatures chasing her, or even of Jareth, with all of his attraction and thinly-veiled malice. This was something far more sinister, more frightening, more… alien. Dark, vague, spidery arms reaching for her insistently. An impossibly immense spectre, a monstrous shadowy moth of wrath and raw power, waiting for her. Endless, nonsensical tunnels and corridors, all black, that constantly shifted perspective with brief flashes of odd worlds screaming by, pulling her every which way until she felt she should be physically and mentally torn to pieces.  
  
And the feeling of being actively watched didn’t abate in the daytime, either; scrutinized, studied under a microscope was a better description of the feeling. She was never alone. Often she would be daydreaming - which wasn’t unusual for her - and part of the landscape would melt away into someplace that looked like another dimension, no place on Earth. There had been one afternoon when the sky had turned a magnificent shade of vermilion and was lit up with so many stars she thought she had fallen asleep. But it turned out she was wide-awake; it was only just after 1:00 p.m.! She had shut her eyes hard against it, willing the sky blue once more, and upon opening them it was so. But she was seriously getting concerned. Was she actually going crazy? Was her trip through the Labyrinth merely the tip of the iceberg, the beginning of an immense nervous breakdown? It had been four days going on five now and this showed no signs of abating.  
  
This was where Sarah’s mind was at about 2:15 a.m. on the fifth day after her trip, when at last he arrived. She had just turned over, trying desperately to calm her racing heart so she could get back to sleep when suddenly she was aware that someone was in the room with her. Not the old feeling of being watched that never left her now; it was the feeling of physical presence. She couldn’t explain that, either; she just knew. Sarah almost forgot to breathe as she reached with painful slowness for the metal flashlight that she’d been keeping under her pillow. Finally grasping the handle, she steadied her nerves and was preparing to whip around and hopefully bean her intruder with it when she heard a very distinct, odd metallic click that didn’t sound like a part of any gun, and she suddenly, unaccountably, just collapsed in relief! It was the first time that she had been able to relax in days! To her surprise, she wasn’t even afraid anymore, and she sat up, facing the direction of the stranger, turning on the light on her nightstand instead.  
  
Unlike her last unpleasant surprise encounter a few nights ago, the only thing that could even vaguely be construed as menacing about the distinguished personage standing in the middle of the room was that there was no logical way for him to have ever entered. Sarah was beholding a man of rather indeterminate age, although he looked far younger in the face than his medium-length white hair. He seemed less otherworldly than Jareth had been in spite of the fact that he was dressed similarly after a fashion: a loose white shirt with a long slit, tucked into more normal black breeches, tucked into sturdy-looking knee-high black suede boots with small silver tassels on the sides, almost a little old-world military. He looked more solid - that was the word she had been searching for. And the longer she looked at him, she was starting to realize that he actually looked more solid than anything in the room. It didn’t make any sense but she couldn’t shake the feeling. She belatedly noted that he seemed to be concealing a small object in his left hand but what it was she couldn’t immediately see.  
  
He had calmly allowed her initial appraisal of him for a moment before offering a warm, off-kilter smile. Sarah was far beyond being surprised by anything weird at this point and her moxie led the way.  
  
“Okay, not to be rude, but is there some faerie prince convention I don’t know about going on in these parts that I’ve somehow unwittingly become a popular attraction for? I mean, it’s either that or I’m officially losing my marbles, and if that’s the case then you can go ahead and bring on Glinda the Good Witch of the North and everybody else my subconscious cares to produce that isn’t scary and we can all have some fun for a while before my parents wake up and call the men in white and I get dragged off to the hospital.”  
  
Her visitor’s expression had changed from tentatively friendly, to quizzical, to jadedly understanding as she rambled on and he finally spoke up.  
  
“If this wasn’t so terribly serious, I’d take you up on recreating the Wizard of Oz in your room; that does sound entertaining,” he smiled. Sarah was surprised; he had absolutely no accent at all; he spoke perfect American English! “And considering what you’ve been through within the past few days, I can quite understand that you are questioning your current mental status, and I can assure you that the hallucinations will pass, although it may take a while longer for you to adjust to the change, being human and all. You are partially correct on one point, however: I am Lord Mandor Sawall, a Prince of the Courts of Chaos, and, until further notice, your guardian,” he announced, striding up to the side of the bed, taking her right hand by the fingertips and bowing elegantly over them. Mandor was not classically handsome as some people would consider it - his nose was a bit too long, his ice-blue eyes a bit too far apart - but his natural grace made up for any noticeable deficiency, and Sarah found that she was smiling in spite of herself. And suddenly stopped.  
  
“Oh shit, it’s all real, isn’t it?” she groaned, momentarily closing her eyes. He let go of her hand.  
  
“I’m afraid so. May I sit?”  
  
“Oh… sure! Wherever!” Sarah couldn’t really place why but she felt that she could trust this man implicitly. There was a window seat and a heavy upholstered chair nearby, but Mandor took the light, wooden chair from her vanity – which she now saw he had already draped his long black coat over – and carried it to the side of the bed; the less she felt she had to move, the less she would notice the spell.  
  
“First of all,” he said, seating himself, “I really must apologize that you had to endure the last few days alone. The initial change after completion is hard enough for us to live through with our sanity intact, and we are prepared beforehand how to deal with it. I came as soon as I found out but there’s a considerable time difference involved traveling here. I’ve only just arrived.”  
  
Mandor knew perfectly well that the conversation he was about to have with this young earthling would be halting and ponderous at times. He had to start at the very beginning and try to explain this as simply and succinctly as he possibly could. It wasn’t that the human girl was stupid; in fact, she seemed rather clever for her age, from the report. It was simply that she was human and anything to do with Chaos already seemed like a nightmare to her, and no wonder. It was alien to this world at best and the Logrus had actively been seeking her - which was ‘worst’. He had to break this to her gently or all that could be accomplished through her would be lost.  
  
“You don’t understand what’s going on here at all, do you?” he said with a sad half-smile. This was going to be so hard for her to accept. He very lightly nudged the ‘acceptance’ value on the metal sphere he still held in his left hand. Sarah’s composure, even upheld at his will, almost faltered. She appeared near tears, but she bravely looked him squarely in the eye.  
  
“This is all my fault, isn’t it?” her voice broke. “I made the wish. I screwed with Faerie, with magic. And now I’m paying the price. I get that,” she spat out, hurt. “What I don’t get is what all this has to do with you.”  
  
Mandor’s expression softened. “Sarah, none of this is your fault - no, none. It wasn’t even your choice, believe it or not.” He paused. “The Logrus chose you.”  
  
At the mention of that name, a familiar frosty chill ran through Sarah to the core, terribly familiar and near at hand. She was still oddly calm but her eyes widened.  
  
“That…that thing?! That’s what’s been watching me? What’s causing all this insanity?”  
  
Mandor grimly nodded. “As to the reason I am here, it happened on my turf, so-to-speak. With one of my shadows.”  
  
“What? Who? … I mean, if it’s not too much trouble can we please get to the point soon because this whole situation is really starting to creep me out,” her voice shook.  
  
“Peace.”  
  
Sarah automatically took a deep breath, eyes closed, and found that she felt centered once more. And finally put two and two together. She eyed him a little suspiciously.  
  
“How are you doing that?”  
  
Frankly, the Chaos lord hated tipping his hand like this but it was imperative that the girl continued to trust him. He had to let it slip just this once. With a guilty little half-smile he brought up his left hand and opened it, revealing the small metal sphere, maybe all of an inch in diameter.  
  
“You can look but don’t touch; you don’t have the training to handle certain types arcane objects safely, although someday you may. Among other uses, these are compulsion spheres, and while they are less flashy than the crystal balls my doppelganger enjoys waving about, these are far more practical and precise in use. If I hadn’t turned this one on, for example, you would be a hysterical screaming mess at this point rather than having a calm, rational discussion with me. Was I wrong to use it?”  
  
Sarah couldn’t stop examining the thing. Even if it ran on magic it looked more like a machine of some kind; the ball was two separate halves that looked like they could rotate independently of each other, along with an ultra slender, flush ring right around the center. There might have been more stuff on the back that she couldn’t see. The idea of controlling other people in this manner definitely brushed her the wrong way, but she had to concede that there did seem to be decent uses for such a thing if immediate experience was any indicator. It might even be wise in a dangerous confrontation: why fight someone when you can simply stop them in their tracks or just change their mind? She sighed.  
  
“Well, this is the first time in about five days that I’ve been able to relax at all, so I guess it’s okay for right now.”  
  
He gave a small lip smile at her concession and concealed it on his person once more. “I am currently utilizing one myself as a translation device. My younger brother Merlin is comfortably fluent in the English language, but I am not; I might have picked up all of a dozen words from him over the years,” he smiled self-deprecatingly. “I realize this brings up many more questions but I will try to continue on in order as best I can. This is going to take a while and my throat is already going dry. Would you care for something to drink, too? Anything you like.”  
  
The whole situation was definitely bizarre but he was actually doing his best to be hospitable and in spite of minor misgivings Sarah decided it would be rather rude to decline.  
  
“Know what hot chocolate is?” she ventured.  
  
Mandor grinned broadly. “Do I ever.”  
  
Sarah couldn’t quite make it out - it actually looked blurry - but it seemed exactly as if he had just thrust both of his hands up to the elbow into a black void that had spontaneously appeared behind him; within moments he had extracted two steaming drinks in handmade earthenware vessels of some kind and the smell of the rich chocolate literally made her salivate. The void was gone and he handed her one by the top edges, letting her take the handle.  
  
“Careful, the mug’s hot.”  
  
It looked fabulously dark but she watched him take his first sip before very tentatively venturing her own… and closed her eyes in pleasure it was so unbelievably good! It was, in fact, the best hot chocolate on the face of the earth. Only the temperature slowed her consumption.  
  
“What in the world did you put in this, cocaine?!” she laughed.  
  
He smiled at the odd compliment. “Whole high-theobromine-yield cacao beans and just a scrape of fresh vanilla,” he confided. “I believe I am, what you would call in your parlance, a ‘foodie’, in my spare time, which is usually considerable.” He took a large swallow from his own mug and sighed in satisfaction. “To business. Sarah, have you been taught anything yet about the ancient Greek philosopher Plato?”  
  
She blinked, surprised. “Not at all; I’ve heard of him but that’s about it. Should I have?”  
  
“No, no, it’s all right; I suppose you are a bit young to have taken that yet in your schooling. Among many other great exercises in thought and logic, Plato postulated that the world that we see here about us,” he sweepingly gestured at their surroundings with his free arm, “is not true reality but only an imperfect reflection, like light shone onto a blank wall, and that the true reality lay beyond this world in the realm of the gods. His students in many subsequent centuries added to this hypothesis, some even going so far as to make it into a kind of religion in which one traveled through many progressively perfect reflections until reaching unity with the great One.” He paused, taking another sip. “They weren’t entirely right but amazingly close considering the fact that they had absolutely no external proof to even suggest such an idea. This world that you know is indeed such a reflection, or what we would call a Shadow. But there are far more Shadows than Plato ever could have dreamed of, all sandwiched closely together, many similar to their immediate neighbors to the point that even the individual creatures who inhabit them appear to have nearly-identical doppelgangers in at least three others. The sameness begins to distort with distance.”  
  
Sarah looked off into space in utter and complete dumb shock. She felt distant, asleep, like this couldn’t be happening. The information was simply overwhelming. And that there might even be other Sarahs drifting around out there…somewhere…it was far too much. And that none of this was truly real…did anything matter anymore?  
  
Mandor quickly read her face and grabbed her free hand. He had seen this bewildered, mad despair before. She automatically met his eyes.  
  
“You exist,” he stated firmly. “Your existence has meaning. You still are as you always have been. You just know more about it now. If it’s any consolation, Shadow Earth has been, and still is, a popular destination for both educational and entertainment purposes for the Court of Amber for well over a millennium.” He let go of her and took another sip of his drink.  
  
Amber. Something dark within her that she hadn’t previously noticed shied away from that word in caution, but in her heart it felt like the sun.  
  
“Amber? And you’re from Chaos. Just how many courts are there?”  
  
“To my knowledge, just the two. You see, the reason I said Neo-Platonism is incomplete is because both ends of the spectrum are actively creative. Both Chaos and Amber cast these Shadows, an infinite catalogue of worlds with an odd, colorless void right in the center where they all but cancel each other out. It is the ancient dichotomy of power: The Logrus and The Pattern, Chaos and Order, the Great Serpent and the White Unicorn, at odds with each other since the dawn of Time, struggling together until the end of all the worlds, ultimately including Chaos and Amber themselves.”  
  
What Mandor said was wordy and eloquent and it took Sarah a second to process what he’d actually just told her. And then a terrible idea hit her hard and fast. Even the Chaos lord’s power could not completely erase the pit in her stomach, the cold unease she suddenly felt dealing with this charming creature who looked so much like a man. She couldn’t even look him in the eye and almost didn’t have the nerve to say what she knew she had to. When she did, her voice was only a whisper.  
  
“You’re from hell.”  
  
Mandor quietly exhaled. When it came to Order-side shadow-worlds, this misconception appeared to be culturally universal. There was a reason he didn’t like coming out here. He couldn’t blame her for it, though.  
  
“I cannot deny that true Chaos would certainly seem so initially to anyone born in Amber’s shadows. I even own a few private hells,” he half-smiled wanly, “but I can assure you that I have never seen a single human being there. It is not the lake of brimstone that awaits evil souls when they die. In the same breath I will also state that Amber is certainly not Heaven, even though quite a number of its denizens enjoy playing at gods and goddesses. I have only been there on two occasions and neither time for as long as I would have liked, but parts of the city look as though they would be pleasurable and the Palace itself is definitely a work of art in its own right. A genuinely interesting place, as far as Order is concerned. And there actually is a human who lives there; the Royal Family’s attorney is in semi-retirement now,” he laughed quietly.  
  
Sarah dared to look at him again. “So there’s no afterlife, then?”  
  
Mandor looked thoughtfully down at his cup. “I still wouldn’t rule out the possibility here, considering how many worlds there are.” He looked up with a sudden, playful look in his eyes. “Perhaps some god favors the short-lived shadows. Aside of power and longevity, they certainly don’t favor us.”  
  
Sarah was surprised. “What do you mean?”  
  
Mandor’s smile turned a bit jaded with a light scoff. “You can’t begin to imagine what it’s like to have internal family feuds that quietly - and sometimes not -so-quietly - rage unabated for centuries, not even perpetuated by descendents, but by the original parties involved. Blood relations are both the blessing and the bane of our existence.” He noted Sarah’s appreciative nod. “The House of Amber seems to fair much worse in this respect than we do, actually. Perhaps the Chaos in their heritage has no other form of release,” he lightly teased. “They are distantly related to us paternally and have only been nominally independent for…four generations now, but that’s a very long story, and for another time.” He finished his cocoa and Sarah quickly followed suit, handing back the empty mug with a quiet thank-you. His responding look said all was right between them; nothing more need be said. He turned away and made the mugs vanish as they had appeared.  
  
“As to the matter at hand,” he turned back to face her, “now that you have a little background knowledge, I can explain the rest easily and at once. Being a Prince of Chaos, I cast dozens of shadows of myself. The man you know as Jareth is one of my most distant reflections.”  
  
He had mentioned this before in passing - almost right away, actually - but the statement hadn’t made any sense at the time. The implications were positively staggering now that she finally understood and could piece it together. The two men were oddly similar in certain superficial characteristics, she reflected, but it struck Sarah less as familial resemblance and more like close stages on an evolutionary chart, like Darwin’s finches. Only they weren’t close at all.  
  
The open comparison, both physical and otherwise, was inevitable after such an admission. She was obviously looking for what she recognized, wondering if parts of his personality would also follow suit.  
  
“Alas, the shadow is the handsomer of us two but I hope you will find the genuine article far worthier of your trust,” he placed one hand to his heart with a slight nod of acknowledgement as his young human companion automatically smiled, blushing. Being this disarming was a natural gift and Mandor used it dexterously. He had to keep her at her ease; she couldn’t be given the time to think about any of this too long. “And just as the people of Chaos and Amber cast shadows, so do those two great cities, and the powers behind them. In fact, the cities themselves are the very first shadows of the Logrus and the Pattern. I have never seen the true Pattern, but from what I have learned it looks rather like what you might know as a walking labyrinth, a tool of meditation. It is Grand Design, simplified in its execution, static and solid even though it flows with immense power. This, too, casts shadows, and the first three copies are in Amber itself. There are six more but only the Amber three are nominally perfect; each successive copy becomes more and more progressively flawed until it is no longer usable with any modicum of safety. Oh yes, it is used. Each of the Family of Amber, upon coming of age, walks the Pattern to gain the initial power of their birthright: the power to walk in shadow, to find or form lesser worlds at will. After that, it can be walked for any number of reasons - even to instantly travel somewhere - but the difficulty, the resistance the Pattern itself puts up against the walker, is always uniform. The lesser Patterns are also technically walkable, but with less predicable results. These are called The Broken Way, which is walked conversely along the interstices; much of the power flows through the cracks.”  
  
“In comparison, the Logrus is far more complex and much more harrowing to navigate on a number of levels. It is constantly flowing, changing course and even perspective without rhyme or reason simply because it is the nature of Chaos. It could be reasonably compared to an incredibly difficult maze, one which never ceases to move, to course with the raw powers of creation and destruction. Even in the Courts of Chaos there are those who have taken one look at it and refused to enter, even knowing the power that would be theirs upon completion. It is walked once, if at all, for there is always the risk of death or serious injury to the brain, and permanent madness far more often. In fact, a brief period of the latter is common after such a trip. Even now, you yourself are living through the side-effects of a successful journey.”  
  
Sarah was almost trembling; she knew the truth before he said it.  
  
“Yes, Sarah. The maze you know as the Labyrinth is the last functional shadow of the Logrus. And you are the first of your race to complete any of them.” He was practically beaming at her.  
  
Sarah’s mind was racing. She’d…but that meant…then…there were far too many questions!  
  
“So…I have power then,” she started tentatively.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“I could do things like what I’ve been seeing you do?”  
  
“Potentially, but you must be taught how to properly use it. Which is why I was sent to you.”  
  
The thought was elating. Learning real magic! But all that still didn’t explain…  
  
“What’s one of your shadows doing living in a copy of the Logrus?”  
  
Mandor sighed, lowering his eyes. “He’s in there because of me.” Was there a touch of guilt in his voice? He took a deep breath. “A very, very long time ago I was traveling in the shadows far from Chaos but still cast by it, close to the dividing wasteland. I ran across him by sheer chance but knew immediately, instinctively, that he was one of my shadow-copies. To my surprise, he recognized himself in me as well and we fell to talking.” He looked away toward the window, as if remembering. “I should have left him alone. I quickly discovered that he had a warped sense of ambition and none of my tact or sense of responsibility toward anything. He could already perform some small magics of his own but he wanted more. He wanted power, real power, such as the Courts of Chaos possess. Even as his originator, the gift of the Logrus is not mine to give. Knowing that such a brash request would never be truly honored, I agreed to ask the High Priest of the Serpent on his behalf on my return home.” He looked back at her and reflexively smiled just a little, and Sarah suddenly recognized the mannerism; Jareth did the same thing, only his was a semi-permanent smirk. “You can well imagine my surprise when his wish was nominally granted - to a point. He was allowed the opportunity to walk one of the distant shadows of the Logrus, but on the condition that he then had to reside there and guard it should he succeed - unheard of, but perhaps wise on the part of the Logrus; She could keep an eye on him and restrict his power this way, you see.”  
  
Sarah blinked. “She? The Logrus is female?”  
  
Mandor’s habitual smile never seemed to remove itself for long. “Sometimes. At any rate, it sounds a little more personable than ‘It’. Anyway, that sort of a challenge is always a fool’s errand, and death was certainly waiting in the wings to claim the fool.” He paused, thinking. “He did it. It nearly destroyed him but he did it, and She rewarded him handsomely. On that shadow, Jareth is practically a god; he’s fashioned his own world, his own subjects. Outside of it, however, he’s all but powerless, left only with the tricks he knew before I met him. He can never fully leave that shadow, though; a portal to the Labyrinth stands gaping open wherever he is, watching, pulling him back in after only a short while.”  
  
Sarah gasped, her eyes widening at how she had been taken in. “ Oh my gosh, I could have totally beat his skinny ass and demanded my brother back! He’d scared me half to death!”  
  
Mandor genuinely threw his head back in laughter at her response. Perhaps the Logrus did know what She was doing; this human girl certainly had the nerve to stand her ground and fight! He recovered himself presently and continued, eyes twinkling with merriment. “As I said, for a time he was happy, content to play with it all like a new toy.” He suddenly turned serious. “And then the boredom of his own self-imposed imprisonment began to get the better of him. He began to invent twisted games to bide the time, finally culminating in stealing innocent beings from distant shadows for his own amusement, going so far as to pervert the use of the Logrus, daring mortals to walk it, destroying their minds. And then you came along,” he smiled crookedly again, crossing his arms and leaning back slightly in the chair. “I still don’t fully understand just how you survived that, and in such good condition, other than you were supposed to. She helped you against his will, turning his own creatures against him, guiding you to the center. It is actually very lucky that you wished to return home at the end - once at the core, you can travel anywhere you desire, any shadow, any time-period. Anywhere.”  
  
Sarah did a full-body shiver at the thought. “So… you’re here why? I mean, I’m sort of relieved that you are,” she laughed self-consciously, “but I still don’t see how this directly concerns you.”  
  
Mandor inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the question; it was logical. “I was notified because he is still technically mine and in such a serious situation I am held responsible for him because he is there by my hand. But this is no mistake. You earned that power, Sarah. She gave it to you, but you must learn to use it properly or it could still destroy you, and for all my talent and experience, I am no teacher. But my uncle, the honorable Lord Suhuy Swayvil, is one of the best,” he said with a touch of pride. “It cannot happen here, however. I must bring you back with me.”  
  
Sarah froze. The words seemed to echo in her brain, especially after his foreboding description of what ‘back’, in all likelihood, entailed. She was trapped between the proverbial rock and hard place; she needed help, desperately, but surely there had to be some other alternative. Having no idea when he planned on leaving with her in tow, she stalled, quickly trying to whip up another plan.  
  
“If I just disappear with you tonight, my parents are sure to think I ran away.”  
  
Mandor instantly deduced what she was up to and almost pitied her. Thankfully, he had been given no conditions on how to transport her or what her living arrangements were to be upon arrival. His only instruction, and from an oracle of the Logrus no less, was to simply get her there. If she felt that she had even a modicum of control in this…  
  
“Would you feel any better about this if they did not believe you missing?”  
  
Sarah arched one eyebrow, highly suspicious. “How?”  
  
“It’s quite simple, really. All I have to do is locate one of your closest shadow-doubles and convince her to take your place for as long as you are absent. You could re-exchange places upon your return home. Nothing easier or cleaner.”  
  
Sarah thought about the possibility seriously for a moment. “But then she would be missing form her world! You can’t just yank somebody out of any situation you please!”  
  
Mandor was amused at her concern; he certainly could. “Which particular situation would you like me to find her in and take her out of, then? Go ahead and be as specific as you please; chances are good that she will exist.”  
  
Clearly there was no getting out of this, Sarah thought ruefully. But perhaps it didn’t have to be so bad. Maybe she could make life better for someone, if only temporarily. Slowly, an idea began to form. _It might work…_  
  
“What if - now don’t just dash off and grab her!”  
  
“Of course not.”  
  
_Now, that smug look is definitely familiar._ “Let’s just say, hypothetically-speaking,” she began again carefully, “if there’s a version of me who’s living with her real mom in New York City and, for some reason I couldn’t even begin to imagine, is unhappy there and wants nothing more than to come and live in this quaint little hellhole of a suburbia - oops! Sorry, no offense.”  
  
“None taken. Actually, that’s quite a decent plan for being forced to come up with it so quickly. That shadow world would be a little farther away than the one I had hoped to use, but I imagine that it’s still close enough for our purposes here. Could you give me your mother’s address? I’m far from omniscient; I only located you by your energy imprint from the Logrus.”  
  
“Of course! I’ll write it down for you,” she moved to get her journal from where she hid it under the far side of the bed, next to the wall. She hurriedly scribbled down the street and apartment number on an empty leaf in the back and tore out the page, handing it to him. He gave it a cursory glance, nodded, folded it and put it in his pants pocket.  
  
“Chances are the address will be a little different but it shouldn’t be difficult to find. Now then,” his demeanor suddenly turned deadly serious, demanding attention as he lightly steepled his fingers, “when you are finished with your classes at school today, do not come home - this is vital for our illusion. Is there somewhere near here where we could meet relatively unobserved?”  
  
“Well, there’s a big park just a few blocks from here. I often go there anyway to rehearse lines or just to be alone.”  
  
“Perfect. Is there a decent bathroom facility?”  
  
“…yes, why?”  
  
“Because you are going to have to swap clothing with your double. I could try to replicate what you’re wearing but it wouldn’t be an exact copy and she’s going to look somewhat different as it is. We don’t want to risk doing anything more that will draw attention to the fact. When can you be there?”  
  
“Can we say about 3:00 p.m.? It takes a little while for me to walk there from the high school. Is there anything I should pack?”  
  
“Take nothing more than you need for school that day. And your backpack goes home with her.”  
  
Sarah was shocked. “But…my stuff! Nothing?”  
  
Mandor’s demeanor relaxed a little again with half a smile. “If you truly care about your belongings, you’ll leave them at home. Shadow travel has its way with ordinary, inanimate shadow-objects, usually mutating them beyond all recognition if any real distance is covered, which will assuredly be the case. You probably wouldn’t want any of it by the time we get there, nor can I guarantee that it would return to its original form whenever you return to Shadow Earth. Anything you could possibly need will be provided. Where in this park should I be waiting?”  
  
“There’s a stone bench beneath a big oak tree just beyond the footbridge and two obelisks. It’s far in but pretty obvious.”  
  
He nodded, getting back up. “We’ll be waiting for you there.” He lightly picked up the chair and replaced it at the vanity, retrieving his jacket, draping it over his arm. Sarah couldn’t shake just how graceful his movements were. Not even effeminate, just… graceful, like someone who habitually danced through life because they could. Mandor took the metal sphere out of his side pouch and clicked it off, releasing her.  
  
“Until this afternoon, then. Goodnight, Sarah,” he lightly bowed and turned to go. A swirling black portal had opened in the middle of the room; the inky darkness was about to envelope him when Sarah suddenly panicked.  
  
“Wait!”  
  
Mandor looked over his shoulder. She was obviously terrified again. “What’s the matter?” he casually strode back over. The blackness just hung there, rippling like an oil slick but without color, for it was all darkness and Sarah’s eyes were glued to it, barely able to believe it was truly there now that she was in full control of her senses.  
  
“Is it…going to still be bad like it has been?”  
  
Just seeing her like that jogged an odd memory for Mandor, of a time when his little brother Merlin had been scared of the dark as a very small child and had called for him in the dead of the Chaosian night. He brushed the thought aside, knowing that a very different course of action lay before him. He had meant to try this with her sooner or later. By the looks of things, it would be sooner. He removed a small silver ring with a flat polished oval of black stone from his right little finger and presented it in his pale palm, holding it out for her.  
  
“Go on, take it, it won’t hurt you. Put it on,” he gently encouraged her.  
  
Curious, Sarah reached out and took it, looking it over. Almost without her conscious volition she easily slid it onto her ring finger. It just fit. “What is it?” she asked, still eying it.  
  
“A direct link back to me. It holds a little of my own energy and magic and should keep the Logrus from being so insistent. And if you are ever in any real danger, I will know immediately and can be at your side in an instant,” he smiled benevolently down upon her, satisfied that she would be so easy to work with, that whether or not she would ever openly admit it, she had already missed his gentle control. And in a flash Mandor suddenly remembered something terribly important. “Sarah, when you traversed the Labyrinth did you bring any objects through with you? I am not certain if it would work in quite the same manner with the copy, but with the true Logrus they would become magically charged upon one’s completion of the circuit. Did you have anything at all on your person, even something small? A pocket knife, a watch, a house key, any jewelry?”  
  
Sarah thought out loud, staring at the ceiling. “Well…I had my lipstick in my pocket but I lost that early on,” she sighed, “and I had to bribe a dwarf with my bracelet, and I paid an old Wiseman with my ring…”  
  
Mandor nodded grimly with a wry smirk: she had been deliberately picked clean. Perhaps a human wasn’t allowed to-  
  
“…my brooch? Yes I still have it!” Sarah suddenly exclaimed.  
  
Mandor snapped to attention. “Where is it?”  
  
“Right there on the vanity,” she pointed. “It’s a costume piece, just topaz-colored glass and gold-painted base metal. It’s only paste, I can’t even begin to imagine,” she laughed.  
  
Mandor strode over to the small table and spotted it immediately; it was a gaudy, cheap-looking thing, but if he was right… He brought forth one of his metal spheres and slowly lowered it to the brooch, careful not to touch it. Sarah could scarcely believe her eyes when the glass jewel began to brightly glow. He returned the sphere to its pouch, smiling.  
  
“As you also can see, this is no longer what it seems. Be sure to bring it with you - it is to never leave your person again.”  
  
“But…what you said about shadow-objects changing with inter-dimensional travel…”  
  
“I think we’ll get to see what this is really made of.” _Along with its mistress,_ he thought as he returned, took the hand she wore the ring on and lightly kissed the back, his eyes still fixed on hers. Sarah couldn’t quite describe how, but she felt moderately safer. He let her go and paced backwards toward the portal. It didn’t look quite as scary to her now.  
  
“Get some rest; you have a very long day ahead of you. Sweet dreams.” And with that he stepped into it and was gone; a split-second later the portal disappeared, too.  
  
Sarah turned out the light and snuggled under the covers, suddenly exhausted. _Everything will be alright,_ she thought, fingering the ring. The next moment, she fell into a blackness soft as velvet and was asleep.


	2. Never Say Goodbye

Author’s Note (I cannot believe I have to do this): In light of recent world events, the proper name for the magical communication/tele-transportation, tarot-type cards that many of my main characters carry about with them will henceforth, for the purposes of this fanfic, be deliberately uncapitalized to avoid any possible unintentional (or even subconscious) association with something altogether different that (thankfully) has no bearing on this story whatsoever. Thank you for understanding. Carry on.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
Chapter 2 - Never Say Goodbye  
  
Dreams piling onto dreams intersecting with dreams; to Sarah, it seemed as if her mind swam with visions until dawn. Fabulous worlds - wild, alive with color, disjointed yet not frightening. It was oddly peaceful, actually. The menacing presence that was constantly with her, which she now recognized with a certain sense of ambivalence, was far removed, holding back, seemingly content to just let her drift tracklessly for a single night. The only sequence she could remember clearly upon waking was the last - it had been so absurdly girly: she had been relaxing on a bright pink beach at sunset with a cloudless purple sky and an ocean so blue you could cry. All that was missing was a herd of rainbow unicorns galloping along the surf and it would’ve been a Lisa Frank painting. No sooner had the thought occurred to her then she turned with the sound of hooves and saw them coming…  
  
…and then her alarm went off. She groggily whapped it silent and rolled over, muttering incomprehensibly.  
  
And suddenly remembered the night before. And what, in consequence, she had to do today.  
  
Wide awake and without another thought, Sarah leaped out of bed. If there had been any question as to the reality of that peculiar interview she’d had in the small hours of the morning, it was easily confirmed by the presence of large boot indentations in the pile of the carpet where Lord Mandor had walked! His instructions on how she was to leave made her a bit nervous, however: a complete stranger would be living in her place for weeks, months maybe. Even if she couldn’t take her stuff with her, Sarah knew she had some last-minute preparations to make. Her journal went way under the mattress. The incantation in her copy of The Labyrinth was quickly blacked out with permanent marker. She hid a few mementos in the bottom of the closet and a few nominally valuable items - including a pair of real pearl earrings from her mother - went behind a shallow drawer in the vanity; on a whim, she put the music box dancer back on top in the center. There. That was everything she had time to do; there wasn’t time to clean. She hurriedly got ready for the day and, having a feeling that her substitute wouldn’t care for her usual clothes, deliberately wore her most fashionable outfit: a light teal tunic with a pastel floral design on it, with leggings and flats to match. It was an outfit she detested, one purchased for her by her stepmother in the desperate attempt to sneak some ‘normal’ clothing into her wardrobe. She inwardly smiled at the sudden thought of what might be considered normal clothing in Chaos if its ambassador was any barometer.  
  
Sarah thoroughly enjoyed ignoring Karen’s patronizing complements as she drank a quick glass of milk, grabbed a banana, and was out the door. Once she was about a block away from the house, she took her backpack off and double-checked a small zippered inner compartment: her topaz-and-gold brooch glowed faintly but noticeably inside. Sarah was honestly surprised she hadn’t noticed that it had changed beforehand, but there had been a lot going on and she hadn’t really even handled the thing since…then. She shook her head, quickly zipping everything closed and putting the pack back on - she still had to get through school today.  
  
Sarah had always been kind of a loner, preferring to dream on her own than to play with other kids in the real world. She had been befriended by a few eccentric, free-thinking extroverts over the years but her parents’ divorce had been particularly hard on her few relationships. To put it delicately, she had not been a joy to be around. She had retreated back into herself - and pushed everyone else away, desperately needing her solitude once again. She hadn’t really meant to do this; it just sort of happened and almost before she realized it, she was truly alone again. And now that she was leaving, she found herself missing her friends more than ever. But, in all seriousness, it was probably for the best that she wasn’t close to anyone at the moment, she coldly reminded herself: she couldn’t discuss what was really going on with her to a single soul, no matter how badly she wanted to talk about it to someone, anyone. They would all think she was nuts, or worse, tell someone in authority out of concern for her. So she went to her classes and did her lab work in biology, and watched a small, close-knit group of girls to whom she had once belonged from a distance at lunch. She would do her best to patch things up when she got back home, she promised herself.  
  
Last period seemed to just drag by, the clock going slower by the minute, but soon enough it was 2:30. Sarah felt a terrified little thrill at the sound of the ending bell - this was it! She managed to keep her cool, leaving the school property inconspicuously, but once she was a few blocks removed and far less people were around she booked it all the way to the park, nearly losing one of her flats once; she simply wasn’t used to wearing them and they were far from utilitarian. Her heart was pounding in her throat by the time she reached the footbridge and it wasn’t just from the exertion, which she was used to: within moments she would be face-to-face with a complete stranger from a parallel universe who could pass as her identical twin! It was almost too heavy to even contemplate. As she reached the other side past the obstructing greenery she noted somewhat dubiously that only one person wearing a baseball cap was seated on the bench, and they were turned away so that she couldn’t see them properly…but then Mandor came around from the other side of the tree and slightly inclined his head to her in greeting. In spite of the nice weather, he was wearing the tightly-tailored long black suit coat he had been carrying the previous evening; in better light, Sarah could see that the material seemed to be made of a foreign substance, like a cross between silk and some kind of plastic. It was fastened closed all the way up to a mandarin-style collar at the neck, making him look almost like a goth sans makeup, and she quickly understood his chosen waiting place: he was far less visible to the general public back there.  
  
Sarah could barely stand the suspense of anticipation as she crossed the remaining short distance between them; Mandor’s companion had yet to turn around, but he bid her to do so now.  
  
“All right, Shara, you can remove your hat and turn around slowly.”  
  
The girl did as she was bade and Sarah gasped as long, thick, dark-brown locks cascaded down her back and the two girls openly gaped at each other for a moment. It was impossible - it was like looking into a mirror! Sarah’s gut instinct had been right; the girl was definitely fashionable. In fact, she was dressed rather similarly to the outfit Sarah was wearing, only hers was largely pink and completed with leg warmers and Keds sneakers. She even wore a little makeup. The likeness wasn’t completely perfect but it was so close that no one would be able to tell them apart unless they were standing side by side.  
  
“I think we did rather well,” Mandor addressed them both, breaking the ice. “Shara Wilkins, may I present to you Sarah Williams, whose life you have generously agreed to occupy until further notice. Sarah, would you believe that this accomplished young lady was actually in a shadow closer to Amber?”  
  
At this comment, the new girl spoke up, addressing Sarah.  
  
“Okay, I don’t understand half the nonsense your fairy prince here is spouting,” she laughed, “but I’m all for magically getting into a better living situation. I thought I’d taken leave of my senses when this guy showed up out of nowhere right in the middle of my mom’s apartment just like that,” she snapped her fingers, “but he managed to convince me he was real and, well, you don’t get supernatural beings offering to save you from your life every day and I thought, the hell with it! Let’s just see where this goes.”  
  
Sarah decided to test the waters a bit and sat down beside her. “Your life is really that awful?”  
  
Shara rolled her eyes. “I live in a tiny apartment in New Yark with my mom, although that’s a misnomer; she barely ever comes home. She’s a working actress of sorts - it’s only bit parts but it usually pays the bills - but she doesn’t give a shit about anyone except herself and maybe whoever her current boyfriend is. And we’ve had to move so many times because she eventually forgets she has a home and doesn’t pay the rent on time. I’m sick to death of her but I’m being fed, clothed, and sheltered, so I can’t get legal help, and I know some people would kill to live this way but I just hate it! I wish I had a real family, a normal life. I’d be willing to bet you money I don’t have she’ll just think I’m crashing with friends like I’ve done in the past without telling her - she doesn’t ever remember when I do. The stupid bitch won’t even notice I’m actually gone for weeks.”  
  
Sarah nodded, both in sympathy and concurrence; Mandor had certainly nabbed the right girl. “Well, normal is all there is where you’re going. You’ll be sick of it in no time but at least you’ll have a stable life here.”  
  
Mandor spoke up from his concealed spot next to the tree. “I hate to break up this intriguing interview, ladies, but I fear neither of you has the luxury of time at the moment and Sarah and I need to be leaving soon. Speaking of which,” he finally strode over to join them, “Sarah, these should be about your size,” he suddenly handed her a decent-sized parcel wrapped in some sort of paper. “Upon further consideration, I realized that we needed to extend to Shara the decency of you not traveling in her wardrobe, either.”  
  
“Oh, right - I nearly forgot! Come on, Shara; it’s time to pay charades,” Sarah motioned for her to follow and the two of them walked off to the park restroom; thankfully, the place was deserted for the moment. Picking stalls side-by-side, the two girls stripped and Sarah handed Shara her clothes except for the undergarments over the steel divider, then tore into the package that Mandor had provided. Inside, she was surprised to find a long-sleeved dress-blouse of sorts, nice trousers, and durable-looking flat-heeled leather boots with thick socks tucked away inside each, all black.  
  
_He’s definitely a goth_ , she thought as she dawned the costume. But really, once she’d thought about it a little bit, she wasn’t terribly surprised. _Welcome to the Dark Side_ , she ruefully smirked, looking down at herself. Wrapped away in the blouse had been a small purse-sized leather clutch bag that, upon further inspection, seemed to be a decent emergency outdoors overnight kit.  
  
While they finished changing, Sarah regaled Shara with facts about her family, her friends, what subjects she excelled at in school, her hobbies, her dreams - in short, everything this girl would need to know to convincingly live her life. They both emerged from the stalls again and appraised each other briefly. Sarah still couldn’t get over just how much Shara resembled her, and it seemed by Shara’s expression as she stood there staring Sarah up and down, shaking her head, that her own thoughts ran on a parallel track.  
  
Shara looked a bit amused when she met Sarah’s eyes again. “Well, all I can say is I hope you know what you’re doing. Man, that blouse made your hair a really staticky mess, hang on.” She dug through her purse and produced a brush, handing it over, and Sarah proceeded to fix her appearance in the room’s small mirror while Shara wiped off most of her own makeup as best she could.  
  
“I hope I know what I’m doing, too,” Sarah sighed.  
  
“I mean, if you want to run off to fantasy land with Prince Charming, I’m not one to judge; I’ve been introduced to a lot worse. But just the fact alone that this is only a temporary situation means he’s already got the cutoff date in mind. Still, I’d say go for it - life’s too short not to take some exciting risks. Just play it smart; I think he’s a lot older than you are and you can’t let him take advantage of you for nothing. And no matter what he or any other guy might say about this, always use protection.”  
  
“Shara!”  
  
“It needed to be said,” Shara stated knowingly, taking back the brush. “You’re literally skipping town for your first fling.”  
  
“It’s not like that at all!” Sarah protested. “He’s just…” And that’s when it suddenly dawned on Sarah that perhaps Mandor had deliberately kept the truth of the situation from Shara for some reason and just let it drop.  
  
“Hey, it’s okay; these things happen. You just take care of you, huh? Tell you what: if you can, try to stay with him for a few years until we’re college-age; it’ll be easier to switch back in a dorm situation. And if you don’t like the classes I’m taking you can always change majors; it’s practically expected at least once. But seriously, though, make the most of wherever-it-is you’re going; have a blast out there. You’ll have to tell me all about it when you get back.”  
  
As they walked back over to the park bench, Mandor could hear Shara reciting back some of the information she’d just been cramming.  
  
“So, I’m Sarah Williams, my birthday is July 17, 1971, my parents are Robert and Linda and Karen’s my step mom and my kid brother is Toby, and I’m currently a friendless dreamer with a passion for fantasy books and the stage.”  
  
“Hey!”  
  
“Well, it’s true, I can’t help it that’s your life,” Shara laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it better while you’re gone, get your girlfriend group back together and everything.”  
  
“Just don’t make too drastic of a difference.”  
  
“Oh, alright, I’ll still be a little antisocial on occasion for appearances’ sake, but I plan on enjoying myself while I’m here.”  
  
“Sheesh, I think you actually will. In fact, I think you’ll love Karen; you’re just the kind of daughter she wishes I was!”  
  
Once they reached Mandor, he made Shara turn around, carefully looking over his decoy. It wasn’t as perfect a copy as would’ve made him more comfortable but he supposed she would do just for fooling a human populace, and he nodded at last with a small smile.  
  
“Yes, this should do nicely. Sarah, I hope you remembered to bring your brooch?”  
  
“It’s in an inner compartment of the backpack,” she said, hoisting her bag onto the bench and quickly digging it out; Shara’s eyes went wide when she saw it was glowing. “I don’t know what all it does yet,” Sarah offered weakly. Shara met her eyes and noted the guarded expression.  
  
“Alright, I won’t ask. Just stay safe, okay? Wow, this is so weird, you know I feel like I’m saying goodbye to a twin sister I never knew I had!”  
  
“Yeah, I know! When this is all over we’ll have to spend some time together.”  
  
“I’ll plan on it.”  
  
“Take care of yourself, too. Us, I mean,” Sarah laughed.  
  
“You bet.”  
  
It was rather awkward but after a second the two girls briefly hugged; it simply felt like something that needed to happen - they were closely related in a cosmic sort of way. Once it was over, Sarah sat down, rifled through her backpack one more time, zipped it up and handed it over to Shara. This was it.  
  
“Did Mandor tell you my address?”  
  
“Yeah, I think I remember it.”  
  
“Well, it’s written in my planner just in case. The place isn’t hard to find; it’s a cream-and-white two-story house with a big patio. It’s about halfway down the street; you can’t miss it. Once you’re more familiar with the area you ought to be able to find the short cut I usually take through a couple of yards and a back alley so you don’t have to take the winding road all the way around; that’s pretty easy, too.”  
  
“Alright, then. Well, whenever you’re ready to come home, you know where to find me - or how is that going to work?”  
  
“I don’t really know yet. I guess we’ll figure it out when the time comes.”  
  
“That would probably be wisest,” Mandor interjected. “It isn’t always sound to make tentative plans that far in advance when many factors can change during the interim. Now, if you’re both quite ready… Shara, you had best head out first. Just follow the main streets; they’re nearly all in alphabetical order in this area. And remember - from now on your name is Sarah Williams.” He took her right hand and bowed over it, making the girl blush. “It has been a pleasure working with you, Sarah.” He let her go and she quickly turned, a bit flustered from the courtly attention, and walked away, crossing the bridge.  
  
Seeing the tableau from an outside point of view, it suddenly struck Sarah that Mandor’s poise and carriage were probably entirely an act on some level, one which was often useful in achieving his ends. Or perhaps it was just how he was raised; she wasn’t quite sure. Presently, he sat down on the bench beside her and exhaled as Shara disappeared from view, crossing the street.  
  
“I think, all in all, that went fairly well. She looks sufficiently like you and I believe her to be endowed with the nerve to pull off her side of this escapade.”  
  
Sarah eyed him dubiously. “What on earth did you tell her?”  
  
Mandor caught her look and, knowing immediately what she was referring to, smiled a bit jadedly, relaxing. “Shara is a young woman who believes herself to be worldly and experienced but still has a ludicrously romantic imagination. I told her as little as possible, actually. She concocted that thread entirely on her own and I simply let her believe it. The less she knows about our true operation here the safer we all shall be. We should give her a couple of minutes before leaving.”  
  
“And what is your opinion of me?” Sarah asked him brazenly. Mandor’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise but he had to concede the question logically followed and he smiled just a little.  
  
“I see before me a relatively intelligent young woman who has the sense to know that she is neither worldly nor experienced, in possession of an inquiring mind and a healthy imagination, and desirous to learn on all counts to better herself.”  
  
_What an answer!_ Sarah mentally sagged. And suddenly smiled herself. “Did someone teach you how to do that?” She didn’t have to mention what.  
  
“Courtly manner and diplomacy are basic training for any noble,” he stated simply, rising to his feet and offering her a hand up, which Sarah took and stood herself.  
  
_I could get used to this_ , she thought with a small inward smile. To top it all off, he offered her his arm like the perfect gentleman he had been trained to be.  
  
“Shall we walk?”  
  
Sarah took it, blushing slightly; even understanding the pretense of their situation, it was not without effect. Mandor commenced at a leisurely pace, leading them further into the park.  
  
“I have not had the opportunity to ask: is the clothing comfortable? Our last meeting was almost intimately casual, and between the blankets mostly covering you and your loose nightdress I couldn’t rightly see you; I had to guess your size.”  
  
“They’re fine,” Sarah reassured him, “although if you lived on…Shadow Earth as you call it, people would call your taste in clothing Goth.”  
  
“I am not familiar with that term; the meaning doesn’t immediately translate.”  
  
“Dark, morbid - I mean the look works on you, but still…”  
  
The unearthly man smirked, catching her drift. “Point taken, but you must understand that black and white are my heraldic colors - I always wear them. All members of the noble houses of both Chaos and Amber have their own set. And besides,” he glanced down at her form for only a second, “black is fairly becoming on nearly everyone.”  
  
_Shameless flattery gets you everywhere, doesn’t it?_ Sarah thought. She had to admit that in spite of everything she genuinely liked the guy - what of him she knew, anyway - but she’d have to watch herself a bit; an old charmer like this had his dangers. “So… how do we get there from here?”  
  
“Yes, I had been giving that some thought earlier today. Considering that you are Order-born and this will be your first shadow walk, I thought we might try this Amber-style for the first leg of the trip; it will be far less traumatic for you both physically and mentally. In fact, we have already begun.”  
  
Sarah blinked, surprised. “How?”  
  
“During this little stroll I have been consciously shifting the stuff of shadow about us as we move forward - admittedly not a practice I am accustomed to but reasonable for one of my training; I usually extend myself through instead. Either method takes concentration and focus, the ability to believe in what is willed to be and to shut out all the rest. I must confess I had chosen a mundane topic initially because it did not require as much of my mental faculty and the conversation alone kept you from noticing the change as much.” He stopped walking. “Look around you, Sarah. Do you recognize this place?” he asked a little archly, dropping his arm so she would let go.  
  
Sarah did a full 360 degree turn where she stood and when she saw what was behind her, her jaw hit the floor: they were on someone’s manor estate! Gone was the park with its stone benches and bridges and statuary - even the stream was missing! Some of the trees were young and they were still definitely walking on an immense, pristinely-cut lawn, but a large stone mansion loomed in the distance and the road she could see was only gravel! There was something else that seemed off as well but it took some time for it to dawn on her…until she looked straight up. The sky…the sky seemed duller, less blue, almost tending into a grayish periwinkle, but it was definitely mid-afternoon; the sun was still high overhead.  
  
Mandor quietly studied her reaction, watching her take it all in.  
  
“I’ve never seen this place in my life,” she finally said, slowly shaking her head in wonder.  
  
“That’s because we are no longer on Shadow Earth,” Mandor stated gently. “This is the first shadow over, closer to Chaos. And we have countless shadows to go, so I’m borrowing a trick from the current king of Amber if you would be so kind as to follow me,” he said and led her the short distance down to the road. Parked by the side was a brand-new 1986 Camaro convertible - black with white trim, of course, fully automatic, leather interior, good stereo system, the works. After walking to another dimension as if it were nothing more spectacular than a Sunday stroll, Sarah doubted that anything would ever surprise her as much ever again…and had the sinking feeling that she was about to be proven wrong. Mandor opened the passenger-side door for her and she climbed inside, buckling up. Her companion walked around the front, lifted the hood, seemed to check a couple of things, closed it, and got into the driver’s side.  
  
“I am told His Majesty Random Barimen favors a Lamborghini for this stunt, but I have no intention of screaming through shadow in this contraption unless we absolutely must. I can make the changes more quickly at a slightly accelerated rate, however, and the machine will be far more reliable than any pack animal or horse where we are going. This is much more involved than a jaunt from Shadow Earth to Amber; the distance alone is over four times greater. Do you have any questions before we begin? The first few shifts require complete concentration and my interactions with you will be somewhat impaired.”  
  
Sarah thought for a moment. “Is there any way you can show me where we are, like a map?”  
  
Mandor smiled his characteristic patronizing, off-center smile. “The routes are completely arbitrary to time and space as well as to each other; there are countless paths and all are true, granted some are safer than others. The distance involved is purely artificial in a sense and yet it does seem measurable in certain circumstances dependent on the starting and stopping points, rather like figuring for x. But, for the sake of amateur speculation…”  
  
He turned to fully face her in the seat and brought his hands together in front of him. Putting them to his mouth, he seemed to whisper something into them. He then brought them back down and slowly separated them until they were about a foot apart, and as he did so a small number of figures seemed to appear between them in midair and Sarah’s eyes went wide; he met them with a note of amusement.  
  
_Such a child, she has much to learn_ , he reflected a bit soberly. Putting on his best school teacher face, he proceeded. “Now, if the swirling dark spot next to my left hand is the Courts of Chaos and the golden spark of light in my right is Amber, then Shadow Earth would be here,” and the tiny green glow about two inches from the great golden one emitted a brief sparkle, “we are currently here,” - the lavender one right next to it flashed similarly, “the dividing waste where the influences of both Chaos and Amber cancel out is over there,” - a large gray line right in the middle highlighted momentarily, “and - just for your personal reference - the shadow that houses the Labyrinth would be right there.” One last spark occurred, orange as the sunrise, just half an inch to the other side of that ominous dividing line. “So, you see you have already been over halfway to the Courts once.” He brought his hands together and extinguished the whole thing.  
  
“So why couldn’t we just zap over to the world of the Labyrinth, and from there get to the Courts?”  
  
Mandor’s gaze flicked back over. “Because, to put it bluntly, Jareth hates me; he was only nominally happier in his ignorance, and yet he blames me entirely for his current predicament which he entered of his own freewill - no sane person would have ever agreed to those terms. And I want you to have a basic understanding of shadow walking firsthand. Oh, one last thing: if, on the off-chance, we are in a circumstance which necessitates me accelerating this vehicle to full speed, you must both close and cover your eyes, and not open them again until I tell you it is safe to do so. You simply couldn’t handle the view. Just trust me on this one.”  
  
He buckled in, revved the engine and they were off down a winding country lane, leaving a cloud of dust behind them. Apart from the tint of the sky overhead, the landscape still looked relatively like upstate New York out here, maybe some scenic areas of New England, perhaps. It was a gorgeous day, not a cloud in the sky and sunshine-warm. They went over another gentle hill before Sarah began noticing the changes. The forest which practically surrounded them had quite a few blue spruce - very blue - mixed in, and the sky was definitely lavender now; it was streaked with a few light-green cirrus clouds. What Sarah was seeing was largely like trick photography, with different pigments being slowly introduced to the general palate for aesthetic effect. Once all of the deciduous trees were gone, completely replaced with a deep-blue evergreen forest, Mandor suddenly commenced talking once more; Sarah hadn’t dared do anything that could break his concentration.  
  
“If you get hungry or thirsty, there are some provisions in the back seat. They won’t stay good for the whole trip but they should keep for at least several hours. I plan on stopping in at least two shadows to refuel and stretch and you might be able to sight-see a little if you wish before we reach the second stop. From there out, any bastion of civilization will be far less welcoming to such strangers as we. At our current rate, the journey should take at least an entire day, possibly two, and if and when you tire, you may sleep safely right here as you can; there’s a warm blanket right behind you on the floor and the seats tilt back comfortably enough. Once we reach a certain shadow considerably closer to Chaos, I should be able to simply trump us the rest of the way in.”  
  
“Trump? Is that like teleporting?”  
  
Mandor lightly sighed. “And I have yet to explain that, either,” he muttered quietly to himself. Zipping his jacket open partway and reaching into his inner breast pocket with his right hand, he produced what appeared to be a pouch of Tarot cards and passed it to her. “Be very careful with those - I have only the one set. Wait a moment,” he closed the roof and windows of the car as a precaution against them blowing away. “All right, you can open it now, but examine them each very briefly; staring at any of the face-sides for longer than a few seconds will activate them and contact the personage portrayed.”  
  
Sarah swallowed in slight apprehension - just handling the black-and-white leather carrying case alone seemed to bring back the eerie feeling of the Logrus - but she steeled her nerves and lifted the flap open, carefully sliding them out. To her surprise, they were cool to the touch in spite of being carried inside Mandor’s coat where they should have received body heat. Handling them very gingerly by the edges, she took in the masterfully executed miniature oil paintings as fast as she could. The first two were of young men in their mid-twenties who resembled each other enough to be biological brothers. Both had differing shades of black hair and were posed in completely different locales: the elder was inside a dark room, seated with an open book in one hand and some magickal device in the other, while the other was standing in a forest of bones against a savagely bright orange sky, with his large two-handed sword drawn and gleaming with the fire in his eye - only one eye, the other was covered by a patch. The next was an old man with a remarkably penetrating gaze and a mocking lip-smile, out of which the slightest tips of fangs could be seen protruding; he was seated in an ornate chair with his elbows resting on the arms, fingers steepled. Two large goat’s horns projected from his forehead and his skin color was a little too green for comfort. She quickly passed on to the next ones - all unbelievably strange landscapes that were far too colorful, rather like photo negatives. A couple of women followed: a blonde-haired beauty of indeterminate age in a lavish midnight-blue gown, seated on a black-marble bench in a distorted, hallucinatory garden at night. The other was of an almost modern-looking woman with short brown hair who stood comfortably akimbo in a stone hallway, dressed in a tunic and breeches with a foil sword hanging from her belt, looking almost as if she dared the viewer to speak to her.  
  
After all these fantastical images, Sarah thought she knew the kind of thing to expect for the last one. She was dead wrong: it was a portrait of a modern businessman with short dark-brown hair, dressed in an expensive business suit, seated next to a computer at a desk! There was something more human…no…more relatable about him, more familiar. He looked confident but decidedly more relaxed than the other illustrious (and possibly dubious) rogues in Mandor’s private gallery. And then the picture began to deepen three-dimensionally and the man began to stir…and Sarah gasped, swiftly covering the image with her hand and looking away.  
  
Just from listening, Mandor guessed what had just happened in spite of his reasonably clear warning, but decided against lecturing her - she had instinctively done the correct thing to resolve the situation with absolutely no prior training, something impressive in and of itself.  
  
Sarah quickly stuffed the cards back into the pouch and handed them back over to him. Mandor opened the car back up.  
  
“So, how does that trick really work? Is it like a pager?”  
  
“Not exactly. I have been informed that it is rather more like a telephone call upon Shadow Earth, but with two notable differences. The last card you handled had commenced to visually shift?” Sarah nodded, embarrassed. “If you had continued to concentrate on the card, the other party would have seen you and you them, in real life, reflected from wherever they are. You get to talk to the person on the card face-to-face. Of course, a person can choose not to respond to such a call by meditatively emptying their mind if they truly wish to avoid the party on the other end. The other significant difference is that the trumps themselves can act as inter-dimensional doorways - if you link hands with the person on the other side of the trump call, they can literally pull you through to wherever they are and vice versa. Trumps can also be walked into without an external party, but one must be certain of what is on the other side; if there is any kind of problem, it may be difficult to return. Ironically, Merlin tells me that, according to some studies he’s made, your home shadow will have telephones that look rather like our trumps in about thirty years’ time, complete with face-to-face conversation capabilities. The devices will not only exist but eventually be common. If teleportation is ever made a feature and we can conjure a way to carry the signal across the Shadows, I’ll retire my deck,” he smiled a little teasingly, tucking the pouch safely back inside his jacket.  
  
“Do those ever have reception problems? Is that why we can’t just trump directly from here?”  
  
“Sort of. Connections made over great distances can be much harder to sustain. I could technically attempt it, but, historically-speaking, trying to trump to Chaos from this far out in Order has about an 80% failure rate, dropping you somewhere entirely arbitrary between the two. More often than not, the resulting destinations are rather dangerous, sometimes not even habitable for short periods of time. It simply isn’t worth the risk. Once we’re within range, I can do it with pinpoint accuracy.” He thought a moment. “If you had such a set of trumps, who would you put on them? My deck is mostly comprised of relatives.”  
  
It was meant as a friendly question - Sarah knew that - but the true answer stung at her heart, and she looked away out the passenger-side window.  
  
“Nobody,” she said quietly. Upon further reflection, she added, “Maybe you.”  
  
“You flatter me, Earth-child, but you should never make such a decision without knowing the individual in question very well.”  
  
“Well, like I told you, that leaves nobody I know,” she replied a little tersely…and suddenly remembered. “I take that back - Sir Didymus,” she stated definitively, “and Hoggle and Ludo.”  
  
“And who are these?”  
  
“Some friends I made during my journey through…” she trailed off, still a little uncomfortable thinking about it. The imprint of the Logrus she bore shifted slightly in response.  
  
“And what are these friends like?” Mandor lightly pressed, attempting to draw her out.  
  
“Well, Sir Didymus seems to be kind of like a cross between a fox and a terrier, but he can talk and he rides a sheepdog like a horse, saddle and all,” she laughed. “He’s pretty small but he’s a courageous fighter - uses a staff. A little excitable but very trustworthy - they all are. Hoggle’s an old dwarf; sometimes he lacks confidence but he’s actually quite resourceful and clever. I honestly don’t know what Ludo is but my guess would be some kind of yeti. He’s enormous and not very bright but he’s all heart and he has this amazing ability - get this - he can howl and boulders come rolling to him by the hundreds! I would’ve never made it through the Goblin City if it hadn’t been for him.”  
  
Mandor had really only been half-listening, having to concentrate as he was, but upon hearing this description, he actually paused to consider.  
  
“I don’t think your friend is a true yeti,” he suddenly spoke up. “In fact, I’m fairly certain that he’s one of a type of very primitive land elementals. I have heard of such beasts but I have never had the need or opportunity to meet one. Interesting…”  
  
Sarah sighed very quietly. “But I guess it would still be unsafe to put them on trumps because Jareth could find out about it, right?”  
  
“Most probably,” her companion nodded absently, turning left.  
  
The landscape had gone on changing as they talked: the forest of blue-colored spruce trees had grown so tall that they almost blocked out the orange sun…within the next few turns of the road, perspective seemed to change for a moment and the next thing Sarah knew, they were coming out of the mouth of a tunnel and were now driving along a mountain road, an enormous deep-violet range rising all about them. They had to stop briefly to allow a herd of golden-fleeced rams with sharp, spiraled black horns to cross in front of the car, and they were off again. The road led them down into a lush valley where the wind rippled the blue grasses until it looked for all the world like water…and then it was, a creek ran on the left side now and the mountains were beginning to recede, low-hanging pastel clouds hiding the peaks from view, descending. Mandor raised the roof and windows again as they passed through the storm front. Heavy rain pounded the windshield and even with the wipers going at full-speed there was nearly zero-visibility, and yet the Chaos lord did not decrease his pace, making Sarah a bit nervous. She noted, however, that there was a distinct lack of lightning and thunder and almost no wind. The storm was over almost as quickly as it had started, and the sun - still improbably high overhead in spite of how long they’d been driving - was now edging toward a vermilion hue. And the mountains were replaced with a flat plain with almost no vegetation at all; the creek remained but was wider, shallower. There were skyscrapers off in the distance on the right-hand side. The changes were bewildering, but Sarah remained oddly unafraid.  
  
The road ahead looked as if it would remain fairly straight for a while and Mandor had rolled down the windows; the air smelled incredible, like a perfumed version of ozone. Sarah reached into the backseat and brought forward the picnic basket Mandor had stashed back there. Inside were a variety of sandwiches, fresh fruit, and a few small glass bottles of water and different flavors of iced tea. She took out what looked like a Caprese sandwich, a small bunch of red grapes and a lemon tea, putting the basket on the floor at her feet.  
  
“Want anything?”  
  
“Not at the moment, thank you; I will eat at our first stop, but I suppose as long as you have it up here I should probably take a water.”  
  
Sarah dug one out and popped the cap off for him, handing it over. “Would you mind if I asked you some questions?”  
  
“Questions are usually welcome as long as they’re a natural part of friendly conversation; I do not allow myself to be interrogated. And, for the time being, try to keep the topics light; I still have to be able to concentrate somewhat on the shadow-shifting but I should be able to comfortably multitask at this stage.”  
  
_Rats._ Most of what Sarah had wanted to know was terribly complicated and probably fell into the forbidden interrogation zone. _Oh well, here goes nothing…literally_. “So…come here often?”  
  
Mandor gave an appreciative laugh. “I have precious little reason to be this far out in what is technically enemy territory. I rarely come to these shadows; there is simply no need.”  
  
“You mean to tell me you can do this,” she pointed out the side window - the skyscrapers had become a desert rock formation, towering thin gray monoliths of erosion, “and you don’t ever travel?! Man, if I could do that and sustain myself, you wouldn’t ever find me at home!”  
  
“You mistake me for one of my younger brothers or a prince of Amber. My itchy feet were well-scratched long ago,” he sardonically smiled. “Most of my interests and ambitions lie much closer to the Courts. One can find practically anything one can imagine off in shadow, but the true game, the real action and drama that affects all the worlds inbetween, is played out at the far polar ends of the spectrum. I was somewhat active in the crowning of the current king but I have been a more peripheral figure for several years now,” he offered evasively. “You might be surprised at just how quiet life has become even in my ancestral family’s Ways - the Ways of Sawall.”  
  
“The Ways? Is that the name of the estate?”  
  
He sighed. “Here you unknowingly ask me something that is more difficult to explain, but I can and will at a later date. Suffice to say that the phrase ‘the Ways of’ is common, and is less of a title and more of a general description of form. It is a mansion, but not in the sense that you would think of.”  
  
“Is that where we’re going?”  
  
“No. I am taking you to my private country house, located slightly away from true Chaos in its own system of shadows. I believe you will be better able to acclimate there and be a bit more comfortable overall for the duration of your stay.”  
  
“And how long might that be?” Sarah asked with a note of trepidation, the meaning and reality of her predicament finally beginning to sink in. “I mean, I’m grateful for all your help and opening your home to me and everything but…seriously, how long?”  
  
Mandor frowned, his gaze flicking to her face for a second, but it read more like concern.  
  
“Comprehensive training in both Logrus work and related magical practices usually consumes decades, but your being human will considerably curtail what you are eligible to learn for practical reasons alone. I will retain you no longer than one Chaosian year; only two months will have passed on Shadow Earth - a span of any longer would expose your accelerated physical maturation in Chaos upon your return home. Beyond a predetermined time limit, I cannot guarantee more until your baseline operational abilities have been determined and it has been confirmed that your journey through the Logrus caused no cerebral damage - an unfortunate but frequent occurrence for those not of full Chaos blood who attempt the trial.”  
  
Sarah blanched. “Are we actually talking about something fatal here?”  
  
Mandor glanced at her with regret. “I would be lying if I denied it has ever happened, but the fact that you appear to be in no physical pain - are you?”  
  
She shook her head emphatically no.  
  
“…and your cognitive functioning still seems within normal range - you are lucid and psychologically and emotionally stable enough to hold easy converse with me. Both of these things are very encouraging signs in my book. Did you experience any more flashbacks earlier today?”  
  
“No, none.”  
  
Mandor nodded. “Then I believe we can safely assume that you made it through relatively unscathed…what is the Earth phrase…’by the skin of your teeth.’ But nevertheless, we will run some easy tests to make absolutely certain before proceeding with your training.”  
  
It was a good thing that Sarah had finished her lunch for the most part because the sudden morbid turn in the conversation had just killed what was left of her appetite, and her change in demeanor did not go unnoticed. The creek had disappeared a while back and the sun was now completely red, tinting everything a Martian sanguine rust as they drove along the bottom of a desert canyon with the windows up - it had gotten too dusty. Mandor had deliberately been trying to choose shadows that nominally hid the drastic shifts he was making in such a short amount of time but this was currently the least of his concerns.  
  
_It simply won’t do_ , he thought: he couldn’t allow his young charge to think such thoughts for long or she might lose her nerve altogether - he had been less able to reassure her than he had expected. He concentrated on widening the narrow dirt path ahead of them into a decent road again and sought a more amiable-looking set of shadows. It appeared they would have to make a slight detour for Sarah’s sake. The ring he had given her had mitigated most of what should have been natural trepidation at her current circumstances, but she needed a pleasant, mundane diversion right now. His alterations weren’t removing them from the correct general course, however; a quick check in the rearview mirror confirmed a small band of sky near the horizon that was a completely different shade - sea green - than the rest of the orangey heavens. _The sea…perhaps…_  
  
A few sharp turns and they were out of the canyon and Sarah gasped, turning fully to look out the passenger window: they were driving along the coastline of a beautiful golden sea with a black volcanic sand beach, small waves gently lapping at the shore. She suddenly smiled.  
  
“You know, I had a funny dream right before I woke up today, and now it seems even more like a farce. I was down on a beach and everything was in these ridiculous pastel shades and then this herd of really girly-looking unicorns was coming. I’d swear it was supposed to be some kind of a joke.”  
  
Mandor smirked himself. “It very well might’ve been. You dreamed of other landscapes besides?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
He nodded. “That sounds like the Logrus poking a bit of fun at Her shiny-white rival, who holds the greater dominion over your world.”  
  
Sarah suddenly heard a faint sound like thunder but she couldn’t tell what it was and rolled down her window; the air was clear again but in spite of the coloring of this world, there was a definite chill in the briny breeze coming off of that ocean. The sound was coming from directly behind them but it was too hard to see out the rearview window from where she was sitting so she stuck her head out the passenger window instead. When she finally saw what the noise was she openly gaped: a herd of Arabian horses the color of lapis lazuli was pounding along the shore! They quickly came up alongside and raced the Camaro just for fun, their jeweled-colored manes streaked back in the wind. To Sarah’s complete shock, one nearest the driver-side of the car turned to look at them in mid-gallop and addressed them in articulate speech! The Chaosian behind the wheel seemed not to be fazed in the least and answered the horse in his own tongue, ending with a couple clicks of his tongue. The beast nodded as if he understood and gave an odd, high-pitched whinny; the whole herd sped on passed them as the proper road that the car had to take veered away from the beachfront along a gradually climbing ruddy cliff-face, eventually leaving both horses and ocean behind.  
  
Mandor anticipated her question before she even had time to turn around. “Those fine beasts are a very distant cousin of one of the more reliable shadow-mounts to come out of Chaos. These you just saw understand the speech of men, and indeed have their own, but they cannot alter their physical forms to better suit their terrain as their truer brethren can.”  
  
Metamorphosis at will - it was quite a thought, and not one that sat entirely well, either, but Sarah had a feeling that she would see and learn far stranger things long before this journey was over. The landscape was hilly again, but with far less vegetation and even some large cacti. The sun was in improbable neon-pink-shading-into-purple but bright as ever, although it had finally moved down a bit. Sarah noted that the sky was incongruously two distinct shades now, split cleanly in half - ochre in front, a deep turquoise behind them. She felt like Alice in Wonderland.  
  
_All we’re missing is the Cheshire Cat perched on one of those Saguaro…_  
  
Mandor had been mulling something over, and now the terrain was stable enough to risk it. He suddenly slowed down and pulled over, turning the engine off.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked, all concern.  
  
“Nothing; I just had an idea.” He turned to face her. “Would you like to drive for a while? Just a few miles?”  
  
Sarah just stared, incredulous at the question.  
  
“You want me behind the wheel?”  
  
He nodded with a small smile.  
  
“You realize I’ve never driven a car, right? I haven’t even started taking lessons yet!”  
  
“Then there’s no time like the present,” he pressed genially, unfastening his seatbelt and getting out of the vehicle, stretching his legs and pacing off several yards into the brush. Sarah quickly followed suit, heading in the opposite direction with the overnight kit, and, making sure he still wasn’t looking, took a badly-needed pit-stop behind a barrel cactus. Upon her return to the car, she saw Mandor was already in the passenger seat, buckled in and enjoying an iced tea. She opened the driver-side door and sat down behind the wheel with a little thrill, adjusting the seat to her height. The key was already in the ignition and the car was idling. Sarah could now see the gages clearly and well-noted that they only had about a third of a tank of gas left. Closing the door and buckling in, she lowered the gearshift into drive and very slowly edged down on the accelerator, guiding them back onto the road.  
  
It was a bit of a gamble, but one Mandor was willing to make at this stage: it would benefit him greatly in the time to come to give her the illusion of control now - she would begin to relax and trust him naturally. Sarah was going pretty slow - that was to be expected - but he would make her speed up a little soon enough.  
  
“You’re doing fine,” he reassured her, “just get it up to about 30 miles per hour and let up on the accelerator. I’m going to keep the road clear and wide for you, and just this once don’t watch the mirrors; let me worry about what’s behind. Concentrate on the road in front of you,” he instructed.  
  
“So, how does this shadow-trekking work if you aren’t driving?”  
  
“Practically the same as it does when I am. The will and the forward momentum are all that are necessary to travel this way, and it shouldn’t matter in theory which of us is causing the latter. This process still works well via proxy.” Their path had slight variations but it remained relatively straight for quite some time, and Mandor was quiet for a while longer to allow her to get used to controlling the vehicle.  
  
It was one thing going through a journey like this passively and quite another to be an active part of it. True to his word, the road remained large and easy to navigate and in no time Sarah was enjoying the experience, thrilled at the responsiveness of the car, feeling the potential power of the engine - she barely had to touch the accelerator at all for more speed. The landscape was still changing but she didn’t have the freedom to notice as much; the desert was picking up brighter hues overall and going lush again.  
  
At last, Mandor broke the silence. “Do you feel comfortable enough to hold a conversation or should I remain silent?”  
  
“I think it would be alright.”  
  
And with that small approval, Mandor quickly commenced to get his young human talking about herself. It was a rather old and simple trick, really: get someone relaxed and distracted and they usually talked much more freely than they normally would, and nearly everyone enjoyed being their own topic as long as the conversation maintained a pleasant, laidback tone. It still surprised him how few people had ever caught on; he had even done it to all of his brothers at some point or another.  
  
Sarah talked and talked and talked. Every subject was covered well: her family, aspects of her life on Earth, her dreams and fears, her successes. It was nothing short of remarkable how comfortable she was with her current company. Mandor even let his own hand tip occasionally, just often enough to keep the proceedings seeming friendly. He also came from a broken family of sorts, he told her: his father, the Rim Duke Gramble Sawall (‘Rim’ of what, Sarah didn’t ask), had married twice, but untimely death, not divorce, had separated him from his first wife, Mandor’s mother Gride. Both of his biological parents were dead now, but his stepmother Dara was yet living. He had three younger brothers, two half – Despil and Jurt, the two similar-looking young men from the trumps - and one foster - Merlin (he had mentioned that name before), Dara’s oldest child, born out of wedlock before she married, whom he loved better than his flesh-and-blood siblings. There was a considerable age difference between the children of the two wives; Mandor was easily old enough to be Merlin’s father, and was seen by him more like an uncle than a brother. He told Sarah tantalizing tidbits of what growing up in Chaos had been like, along with a few of his earlier exploits. This was obviously a man who had seen much, done much, and been much - too much - born higher than he cared for, actually preferring to live like a minor noble than openly exert the public political power that was rightfully his by birth. Apparently certain Chaos officials never lived to be old; assassination was a little too common for anyone sane to want those positions.  
  
They had been conversing in this fashion for about an hour when Mandor saw the beginning signs of fatigue in Sarah and knew what he had to do. He willed the road over the next small hill to be perfectly straight and the landmarks as boring as he could manage, discreetly readying one of his metal spheres should he have to intervene directly.  
  
Between how long they had already been traveling that day (and Sarah was certain it had been longer than that slow-moving sun would confirm) having to hold her arms up to steer (muscle groups she wasn’t used to using for extended periods of time) and the sudden monotony of the scenery (in spite of the wild coloring), the effect Mandor had been trying for occurred after only three minutes: Sarah’s eyes slowly closed and she nodded at the wheel. He roused her instantly.  
  
“Sarah!”  
  
“What?! What happened?” she started, coming to.  
  
“You fell asleep,” he said simply. “I’d better take over again. You try and rest.”  
  
She carefully brought the car to a stop and they switched seats again; it had gotten a bit nippy outside but the heater worked well and it was now turned on. Sarah tilted her seat back slightly and tried to relax; as tired as she was, her mind was still going on full-speed. At last, exhaustion overcame her.  
  
Mandor had been carefully observing her, and once he was certain she was finally safely unconscious, he very gradually brought up their speed to about 120mph. He had to try to hellride it to their first civilization stop - they were almost out of gas. He focused with all his might on the goal world - a black desert metropolis - and on they hurtled through dimension after dimension at breakneck pace. The sight alone would’ve driven his human companion out of her mind, but what she couldn’t see or otherwise experience wouldn’t hurt her and he took no chances, using the sphere he had already gotten out to lightly deepen her repose; she could still be woken quickly enough in an emergency. He hardened his will against the lightning-fast impressions that began to assault his peripheral vision: a city of bronze populated by gigantic rats…a visible wind with ghosts singing by the window…a lava eruption that threatened to break the windshield if he stayed but one second longer…green hills that turned out to be a sleeping giant - he stirred…a hailstorm that was over almost before it started…the swirling colors of the true Chaos sky for only a moment, then gone…the ground shook with the heavy footsteps of something monstrous he wouldn’t focus on giving chase…a crystal waterfall in a valley of glass…black-and-white striations across the sky…midnight for a split-second, then a fast dawn with three suns, one in retrograde…a black rockslide that peppered the road ahead with small boulders; unused to the vehicle, Mandor swerved the worst of it but still managed to drive over one that blended into the road and suddenly the car was pulling too hard to the left. Cursing, he forced his way through three more shadows and suddenly had to slam on the breaks with both feet to get stopped before he plowed into the vehicle ahead, the force throwing Sarah forward and almost into the stiffened shoulder belt - his right arm shot out and caught her just before impact!  
  
Sarah awoke instantly with a gasp…and belatedly recognized the classic ‘soccer mom save’ as Mandor lowered his arm again, clicking off the sphere so it wouldn’t further interfere with her consciousness.  
  
“I am sorry about that, but we appear to have just hit traffic,” he stated wryly.  
  
And that’s when Sarah took her first real look around and what she saw was so fantastic she did a double-take: they were surrounded by cars in what appeared to be rush-hour traffic on a paved road with three lanes on each side and businesses lining the way. But the real eye-popper was the drivers - they were all reptilian! Bright yellow-green eyes with vertical-slit pupils stared at them in shock through passenger windows and from the sidewalk. In a vague way they roughly resembled men - they were built upright, wore clothing and black, straight hair grew on their heads after a fashion - but their skin was green-scaled with two bony growths on the sides of the neck, black two-inch claws finishing each finger, noses almost flattened completely into slightly elongated faces with no external ears - just nickel-sized holes where they should be.  
  
“Do try not to gawk, Sarah,” Mandor drolly reprimanded her, taking the attention they were garnering completely in the stride. “They didn’t just appear out of nowhere - we did.”  
  
He managed to nose the car into the turn lane and got off the main drag. Coming across a deserted service-entrance alley, he pulled in and killed the engine. Sarah belatedly noticed that the car had been affected by the shift, too: the black leather was now made of some hide akin to crocodile, and the seats seemed thinner and the interior longer. She remembered what Mandor had said about shadow objects changing as they passed through other shadows but she had never once considered the car. Hopefully it wouldn’t change to the point that it ceased to function.  
  
“Welcome to the first stop,” he said with half a smile, then sighed, dropping it. “We have to spend a little more time here than I’d planned on; I hit something just before we arrived and it appears to have partially damaged the steering apparatus. Fortunately, this is a mechanically-minded shadow and I’ve no doubt we can find a decent garage. However, before I use the last dregs of our gasoline to get us to one, in light of the further necessary repairs, I think we’ll have better luck getting service if we don’t look like aliens to these people.”  
  
Mandor got out of the car, leaving the door open, and Sarah - having absolutely no clue what to expect at this point, began to disembark as well, but he stopped her.  
  
“It’s alright, you don’t have to get out; I just have to be standing to do this.” He bent and met her eyes earnestly. “What you are about to witness is the physical distinction between a native Chaosian and nearly all other creatures of all the other shadows: I can alter my own body at will. I fully understand that seeing this for the first time might frighten you, and I wanted to reassure you beforehand that, regardless of my appearance, it’s still me in here,” he tapped his temple with one finger. “You have nothing to fear from any of my forms.”  
  
And with that he closed his eyes and, standing with his feet slightly spread apart, he rolled his shoulders back in one slow, fluid movement, spreading his chest…and his chest actually spread, growing larger, the muscle tone increasing as he grew proportionally eight inches taller, his limbs lengthening, his nose flattening and spreading, his skin turning to rough scale. His longer, thinner fingers became tipped with the black points as his white hair shaded to black with a distinctive widow’s peak, swept away from his face as his eyebrows and external ears receded to nothing and the neck growths formed. The complete transformation only took about ten seconds. He opened his bright-gold slit-pupiled eyes with an incongruously warm-blooded smile; his teeth were now uniformly flat-edged.  
  
“There,” he said, leaning against the car, looking dead into her eyes. His voice was still recognizable but it had taken on a sandpaper-y, rasping quality. “What do you think? Do I pass?”  
  
What Sarah thought was that what she had just now seen somehow eclipsed all the other events of the entire trip! In spite of how horribly alien such an ability was, she just couldn’t shake how compellingly intimate that had felt, almost like watching someone change clothes; thankfully, his clothing had altered with him.  
  
“I…it’s…it’ll work,” she stammered awkwardly, almost too self-conscious. Sarah practically held her breath as he climbed back into the vehicle, adjusting the driver’s seat down and back to accommodate his increased height, closing the door. His eyes seemed almost unnaturally bright as he watched her mixed reaction to him with mild amusement. Perhaps it was best they were getting this out of the way now; his other standard forms would not be as much of a shock when the time came.  
  
“See? It’s still me,” he said gently. “You will no doubt be relieved to know that I cannot alter your own person one iota,” he stated with a note of dry sarcasm. “I can, however, bespell your appearance temporarily for the same reasons, if you would permit…”  
  
Sarah eyed him. At least he seemed to know what he was doing, even if the prospect did make her a little nervous. “How temporary?”  
  
“One hour - why, is it that hideous?”  
  
Sarah was flustered for a moment… and then realized that he was still smiling; he was teasing her to try to get her to loosen up! She smirked.  
  
“I suppose it’s all right.”  
  
He nodded, holding his long, clawed appendages forward in a receiving stance. “Give me your hands.”  
  
Sarah inhaled and bravely placed her hands into Mandor’s upturned, altered ones, and he lightly clasped them; unlike the backs, the skin of his palms was perfectly smooth. He closed his eyes and began to mutter under his breath in a strange language she had never heard before; from the little she could make out, it made his English sound positively clunky in comparison. After a few seconds, she began to feel a cool tingling on her face, neck, hands, and scalp - not altogether unpleasant but definitely noticeable. A few more seconds and it was over. He opened his eyes and smiled a small knowing lip smile as he opened his hands, revealing hers: they were thin, scaled and clawed just like his! She looked them over thoroughly, astounded, but upon touching the back of the left, she realized that her tactile sensations were unchanged; the ring he had given her looked like it had shrunk to fit - the spell was that powerful. Curious, she pulled up her sleeve - the scales only went halfway up her forearm, ending exactly between the wrist and the elbow. But nothing could prepare her for her initial reaction when she pulled down the visor mirror and saw her face: the illusion was nothing short of stunning. He hadn’t missed a single detail and Sarah found herself smirking at her wildly-altered visage; the effect was just too cool. She suddenly wondered how her brooch had survived so far but decided against getting it out while they were here; the Chaos lord was taking great pains to keep both of them inconspicuous.  
  
“I’m afraid I can’t do anything about your height; you’ll just have to be short,” he commented offhandedly, “but that much ought to suffice to put people at ease. If you’re ready, we should get going.”  
  
He turned the ignition and their trusty Camaro came back to life after one false start; they were definitely running on fumes. Mandor felt the gas give out just as a garage came in sight and he popped the gearshift into neutral, sliding it into the lot. An attendant, dirty with oil and wearing only brown work pants, walked up to the car and Sarah had to force herself not to look at him. Mandor rolled down the window.  
  
“So, whaddayaneed? Besides a couple of us boys to shove you to the nearest refill station - ya almost made it; Drek’s is just another block down,” the mechanic hissed rapidly with a reasonably friendly grin. Sarah silently gasped, keeping her eyes glued to the dashboard: she could understand him!  
  
“I ran over something large and now the vehicle is pulling far too hard to the left,” Mandor replied in his now similar-sounding voice.  
  
The mechanic nodded. “Threw your alignment probably. If you bent the tie-rod it could take us a few days to ship the part in from Valdesh.”  
  
“Is your manager here?”  
  
“Yeh, right in the shop, why?”  
  
“Could you get him for me, please?”  
  
The true reptilian man stopped smiling, recognizing a problematic customer. “He won’t give you no different answer.”  
  
Mandor was unfazed. “Just humor me.”  
  
The mechanic looked a little miffed but he walked off in the direction of the squat brick building back by the garage and stepped inside. The moment the door closed, Sarah yanked Mandor’s jacket sleeve to get his attention, forgetting her apprehension of his new form.  
  
“You never told me I could understand them!” She nearly jumped at the sound of her voice - it mimicked theirs, only higher! And in the same foreign tongue! He genuinely smiled; her reaction had childlike surprise and enthusiasm.  
  
“I built a communication spell into the other one, but it only lasts as long as the masking does.” He produced a long wallet from the inner breast pocket opposite the one he stored his trumps in and got out two foreign-looking crisp bills, each worth 20 terictans. He handed them to Sarah along with a small pocket watch. “I told you we had a little time to waste; you might as well sight-see while you’re here. Chances are good that neither of us will ever see this place again so I would advise you to make the most of it.”  
  
A man Sarah took to be the manager was walking out to meet them. Mandor got out of the car and motioned for Sarah to do likewise; her legs were stiff but it felt good to be on her feet again. The manager strode right up to Mandor, bold as brass.  
  
“Alright, what couldn’t my attendant help you with?”  
  
“First of all, before we start discussing repairs, is there anywhere within comfortable walking-distance that my daughter could go to amuse herself while we wait?”  
  
The guy looked at him a little incredulously. “It’s not gonna be that fast from what Tark tells me, but if you go a block that way,” he pointed and looked left, “you run into a pretty good stretch of shops that could keep a young lady busy for a while,” he finished, looking down at Sarah with a smirk.  
  
“Go on, explore, have fun,” Mandor playfully shooed her away, “meet me back here in precisely forty minutes.”  
  
Sarah smiled at the ruse. “Yes, Father,” she answered demurely and paced away at a decent clip.  
  
“I wish mine was that good,” the manager noted, watching her go. “Now to business: I don’t know how fast you think we can do major repairs around here, and with other vehicles to service, no less. This thing’s a beaut, though,” he observed, finally looking over the car in question, “I ken see why you’d be in a hurry to have it back.”  
  
Mandor caught the man’s eyes and deliberately held them just to get his attention - a simple enough arcane trick but one that never failed to impart an air of authority. He discreetly reproduced his billfold and carefully opened it for the manager to see, fanning its thick contents with this thumb claw before quickly putting it away; the man’s bright-green eyes were now wide as dinner plates.  
  
“I don’t care how much this costs,” he said gravely, “just fix it. Now – even if you have to make a facsimile of the part. And I will watch it being done. This is an emergency.”  
  
The manager had no idea who this guy thought he was but the incentive of a considerable cash bonus was enough impetus to try.  
  
“Yes, sir!” he grinned and Mandor gave a small lip-smile and a nod of acknowledgement as the manager yelled at his ‘gecks’ to stop sunning themselves and get Mandor’s car on the lift. The Chaos lord casually paced in after them, reflecting that in all Order-worlds money was the universal arbitrator.  
  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
_This is way beyond ‘one small step for man’_ , Sarah thought as she casually made her way down the long row of independently-owned shops on an alien planet. It simply didn’t feel real, she felt like she was dreaming. Her short nap had taken a considerable edge off of her fatigue, however, and she was perfectly alert. It was warm and very dry here, but not too hot; it was probably in the upper 70s and Sarah was thankful now that her blouse and pants were light even if the boots weren’t. Mandor had been right about her height; she looked like a child compared to these people, with everyone almost a full head taller at least. The fact wasn’t garnering much attention, though. In fact, to Sarah’s amazement, the crowds on the sidewalk now treated her with the general indifference that all society confers upon normalcy. Even what she was wearing wasn’t too far out of the ordinary, although many of the creatures that were probably closer to her age were dressed in much edgier fashions: tight asymmetrical block-print dresses that exposed nearly the entire legs and shoulderless bandeau tops looked common, along with a lot of plate-metal jewelry - sculpted collars, hammered arm cuffs, and heavy-looking bracelets were on one out of every six or seven women she passed. Conversely, the men’s general look appeared rather unspectacular and utilitarian on the whole, although there were certain exceptions, most notably that a small handful appeared to have deliberate geometric scarring on exposed arms or even their faces; whether it was ritual or just aesthetic she couldn’t tell and wasn’t about to ask.  
  
In spite of the relatively exotic populace, the shops were surprisingly mundane: clothing, jewelry, home furnishings, junky knick-knacks, food - the place was almost like an outdoor mall on Earth. Remembering Mandor’s warning, she was a little surprised that he had handed her so much money when chances were whatever she got wouldn’t stay in its current condition, but in the end she decided he had genuinely meant for this to be a short pleasure outing away from him. Still, she wasn’t going to just squander it; she had to get something special to remember this place by.  
  
Of course, not all the businesses were totally ‘normal’ by Earth standards; she quickly passed a day spa that was having a special on full-body peels, using a rather provocative complete female skin-shell in the window as part of the advertisement! She was about to cross the street when she spotted the bookstore.  
  
_Bingo._  
  
It was a used mom-and-pop affair - her preferred type of establishment for reading material anyway - and in no time she was digging through the musty shelves feeling right at home. After nearly half-an-hour’s careful deliberation, she chose a history tome and a fiction compellation that had been in the ‘classics’ section. Her selections paid for, she was out the door and on her way back to the garage when on a whim she stopped in a juice bar. The prices were reasonable but she couldn’t even identify half the ingredients on the menu (and some she was certain were some kind of pulverized bugs from the description) but she took a chance with a plain iced sweet cactus juice and was well-rewarded for the risk.  
  
She got back just in time to see the Camaro lowered off the lift and taken for a quick test drive around the block by the manager with Mandor in the passenger seat, watching him like a hawk. Pulling back into the garage parking lot, both parties seemed satisfied and a large quantity of money exchanged hands with smiles all round. After a couple of quick last-minute preparations, they were on their way out of town.  
  
“So, get something frivolous, I trust?” Mandor quipped good-naturedly once they were back on the main road out; the sun was finally setting.  
  
“A couple of books that looked interesting. Will they hold up?” she asked, opening the larger story-one in her lap.  
  
“At least the contents should,” he said, glancing down at them. “What you should’ve been concerned about is whether you would be able to read them later,” he calmly noted. And, sure enough, as soon as Sarah started to feel those spell-tingles again as the illusion he had cast over her wore off just a few minutes later, the lettering all turned to an indecipherable gibberish right before her eyes.  
  
“Oh,” she said, embarrassed at so obvious a blunder. Her voice was back to normal again.  
  
“It’s all right; you’re still new at this. I can make translated copies for you later.”  
  
After a while he pulled over and Sarah looked behind them; the alien metropolis was gone. Mandor stepped out of the vehicle and in moments was himself once more as he sat back down, adjusting the seat back up. In a way, Sarah was relieved to see him back to normal, but an odd thought had been eating at her the whole time they were in Lizard City and now she dared to ask. He had lifted the picnic basket onto the armrests between them and was getting out what she presumed was his dinner; he had been too busy to eat while they were there.  
  
“Mandor?”  
  
“Yes,” he replied absently, not looking at her.  
  
“Is this your true form?”  
  
He suddenly stopped and glanced up at her, caught off-guard by the question, but soon relaxed again with a fond smirk.  
  
“You ask whether I am a man by nature.”  
  
Sarah flushed, a little embarrassed, and looked away. Amused, Mandor thought for a moment how best to answer her.  
  
“This is one of my true forms,” he finally stated in his normal conversational tone, as if this wasn’t an odd topic at all. She turned back around to face him; his expression was unusually frank. “My other chief form you would recognize as a kind of an apelike creature.”  
  
_Primate_ , Sarah thought. _Well, at least that’s something._  
  
Whatever he was, Mandor was currently diving into a turkey club and Sarah’s own hunger prompted her to join him; soon they had both downed two sandwiches each and a fair portion of the fruit. Sarah couldn’t quite put her finger on it but the flavoring of everything was slightly off somehow now. Upon asking, Mandor confirmed her suspicion: their current supplies wouldn’t last much longer.  
  
“Dig all the water bottles out and close up the rest,” he instructed her as they pulled back out onto the road again. After a short dip and a curve around a black hill, a beggar of sorts with a sign on the side of the road came into view. Without a single word, Mandor slowed down and handed him the basket through the window; before the astonished creature could even thank him they were gone. The scene had seemed surreal to Sarah, almost as if Mandor had simply willed a destitute person into existence to benefit from his munificence! Seeing the question in her eyes, he put a finger to the side of his nose.  
  
“Trade secret,” he smiled, “although you may learn it someday.”  
  
With the excitement of civilization behind them and the slowly changing road ahead in the dimming light, Sarah’s fatigue returned with a vengeance and soon she was asleep again; this time, nothing disturbed her rest. Traveling in this fashion had proven a surprising strain for Mandor as well: having to manually shuffle through all the possible variables in sky and landscape to reach combinations close to Chaos was ludicrously cumbersome compared to grabbing a destination and pulling oneself through, but it couldn’t be helped. Even if he had the power to conjure any version of the Black Road from way out here - the highway to Chaos - its use would probably sicken his human companion at the very least. The sun had finally set and he didn’t feel up to another hellride at present to keep chasing it; it was next-to-impossible to shadow-shift without sufficient light and he’d have to pull over soon for the night. He’d retained the black desert but had begun to add rock outcroppings here and there. The sky had been rather difficult to negotiate at first but there was one final thing he wanted to try before turning in. The stars had been visible for some time but, true to Order-form, they were stationary - distant, cold, mind-numbingly predictable. He was tired of Order.  
  
_Enough!_ he thought. _Enough of these sterile galaxies, these lifeless stars! Let there be light!_  
  
And one single star shot across the sky in the direction of the horizon. He kept the road easy and drove until the entire sky was ablaze like the biggest meteor shower in the world. Mandor got off the pavement and four-wheeled over the flat desert floor until they were a small distance away from the road and turned off the engine. The place seemed totally abandoned - nothing for any life-form to live on out here as far as he could tell - but he took normal precautions. Quietly getting out of the car, he activated two of his spheres and set them in orbit around the vehicle in lieu of a protection circle and got back inside. The night was cool but not outright cold and, glancing benevolently down upon the human girl in his care, he suddenly had an idea. He carefully reached behind her seat and, retrieving the soft, grey Chaosian-made blanket – a standard army article that had saved many a creature’s life by adjusting to and holding a specific temperature according to the exact needs of the body under it - he lightly draped it over her somnolent form up to the neck, then turned the car accessory on momentarily to put the roof back down and tilt both front seats back fully.  
  
“Sarah,” he called her name gently. She stirred.  
  
“What?” she asked groggily, still half-asleep.  
  
“Look up,” he prompted her.  
  
Sarah pried open her eyes - and then opened them wide: the entire night sky was alive with the brightest shooting stars she had ever seen in her entire life! Now fully awake, she noticed that she was reclined all the way and tucked in; Mandor was lying alongside in the driver’s seat with his hands crossed behind his head, gazing heavenward.  
  
“I probably should’ve let you rest but I couldn’t resist showing you this,” he added conspiratorially. “That is no mere meteor shower,” he pointed up, “those are actual stars, part of the stream that runs to Chaos. They point the way home, racing to join their brothers and sisters, dancing for joy in the place of beginning,” he stated serenely.  
  
The sight alone was enough to make Sarah feel small, but once explained it was overwhelmingly moving, almost painfully beautiful to behold. They simply lay there in silence for a while, watching the entire heavens fly by overhead. After a time, Mandor sat up and removed his jacket, draping it over himself as he lay back down.  
  
“Are you comfortable with seeing that as you fall asleep or should I put the roof back up again?”  
  
Sarah turned to face him, smiling. “Leave it down.” And suddenly added, “we are safe out here, right?”  
  
“I secured the perimeter while you were asleep. I think it’s very unlikely that anything’s out here, but if my circle of influence is broken during the night, whatever did it will be frozen in place until I can deal with it at my leisure in the morning. We are perfectly safe,” he reassured her, settling in. “By this time tomorrow, you will be resting securely in my guest apartments.” He could just make out her features in the faint light; her eyes were closed again with a small smile. “Goodnight, Sarah Williams, child of Shadow Earth, adopted daughter of Chaos,” he said quietly.  
  
“G’night, Mandor,” she sleepily murmured back.  
  
Mandor watched his charge for a few moments longer, then turned over and allowed sleep to claim him.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
(Incidental music: for the blue horse sequence - Drop Black Sky, Sticks and Shadows, 'Submersible Blink mix'; for the falling stars, Uroboros Choke, Nailed to the Sky, 'Holes in Space'. General shadow-walking - Trash80 'Faces of a Fashion')


	3. The End of the World as We Know It

Chapter 3 - The End of the World as We Know It  
  
Morning came far too soon for Sarah’s jet lag. She was awakened gradually by the sound of a male voice repeatedly calling her name softly and experienced the distinctly disorienting sensation of waking up someplace strange. Reluctantly opening her eyes, she saw an entire universe of stars falling away in the dim light and was instantly jolted alert, the memory of the previous day flooding back now. She glanced to her left and saw the source of the voice she had heard: singularly distinctive ageless features, a shock of shoulder-length white hair and bright, intelligent blue eyes met her own. She exhaled in relief, closing her eyes again.  
  
“Mandor,” she named him.  
  
“That’s right.”  
  
“What time is it?” she yawned, rubbing her left eye with the heel of her palm.  
  
“Dawn, and your breakfast is on the dashboard. I know it’s early and I hate to force any of my guests to rush a meal, but we must make haste if we are to keep the light long today; from here on out the day will be significantly shorter. By early evening we should reach the trump point I have in mind.”  
  
Very little of what Mandor had just said made any logical sense but why should he start now, Sarah reflected a little sarcastically; he had a perfect record of telling her exactly what was happening without really explaining any of it. It really was an art form. In spite of how groggy she felt, the food smelled fabulous. She stiffly sat up and grabbed her plate, which had a generous slice of vegetable herb frittata; a glass of mixed citrus juice was in the Camaro’s cup holder on her side.  
  
_At least I’m not going to starve out here_ , she thought a little wryly, diving into another of Mandor’s impeccable creations. Between bites she noticed that he was busy fiddling with a couple of his metal spheres, as if calibrating something. “We didn’t get anything trying to sneak up on us last night, did we?”  
  
“Thankfully no. I further scouted out our vicinity this morning. This shadow would appear to be completely uninhabited,” he commented, putting them away. “When you’re finished, there’s a small alcove in the rock just a few paces that way,” he pointed left, “where you can freshen quickly. Then we need to be on our way.”  
  
Sarah finished wolfing down her breakfast, prepared for the day as best she could in such primitive circumstances, and they were soon on the road again. The landscape was uniformly barren now; no plants grew except for some brightly-colored moss and small unearthly fungi. They wound around bizarre black-and-green rock formations for what seemed like hours. The fact alone that the land wasn’t changing as much suggested to Sarah that they must be getting closer to what Mandor wanted to see. The sky, however, was quite another story. They had commenced driving at first light and the dawn had gotten brighter and brighter until it was fully day, but there was no sun! The realization was a bit of a shock, the effect downright eerie; sourceless light flooded the dark desert worlds they cruised through. At times it almost seemed to coalesce but then they would make another turn and it would be directionless once more. The sky was slowly taking on bands of different bright pastel colors - he seemed to be trying to stack them somehow - but the formula kept changing and when they suddenly got some real greenery around the next bend and not just colored rock he pulled over with an irritated sigh.  
  
“Would you mind taking the wheel again? It appears I have to concentrate more fully than I can when I’m multitasking like this.”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
They quickly switched seats again and recommenced with Sarah driving. There was so much black out here and what wasn’t was fluorescently garish; she could see why he had been having problems - it was difficult for her just to stay focused on the road! They went over a small hill and when Sarah saw the other side she smiled: he had inverted the colors of the road so it would stand out plainly against the alien landscape - bright yellow with black lines down the middle.  
  
“There, that should be easier to follow,” Mandor noted offhandedly. He was right, of course, and soon Sarah felt confident enough to pick up a little more speed. On cue, the theme song from ‘The Wizard of Oz’ started playing in her head and she had to squash the impulse to start giddily singing along.  
  
_Follow the yellow brick road, follow the yellow brick road…_  
  
Her eyes almost drifted closed for a moment as she imagined it… and suddenly the road they were driving on got so bumpy and uneven that she was forced to slow down. Looking at the condition of the pavement ahead, she stopped completely and just gaped, dumbfounded: from where their car was parked to the far horizon there was a canary-yellow cobblestone road! Mandor looked every bit as shocked as she was, then turned to face her with the beginnings of a slow, conspiratory smile.  
  
“Perhaps it is best if I drove after all. I forget that we haven’t really tested your own powers just yet, although I must say I am impressed; you shouldn’t be able to do that at all without any training.”  
  
“I didn’t mean to,” she apologized feebly, but he just shook his head, waving it off.  
  
“Don’t ever apologize for displaying a talent you never even knew you had,” he stated simply and seriously, getting back out of the car so they could change seats again.  
  
Mandor navigated her creation for a short distance with a smirk, but in a single turn their way was smoothed again and they continued on as usual. Only they were definitely leaving the desert and the fact seemed to be annoying Mandor, who appeared to be having a private internal argument with the universe at large and losing. But that was the least of what was concerning Sarah, now that she knew she could at least nominally shift shadows.  
  
“Mandor?” she broke his tense reverie; rather than being irritated he seemed relieved at a rational excuse for diversion.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
Sarah tried to form her question carefully. “That trick you do with the trumps - the communication and transport thing - can it be done using anything else, like, say, a mirror?”  
  
“It’s theoretically possible, I suppose, but it would take immense power, talent, and decades of training in the general occult. The trumps are comparatively far easier. Why do you ask?”  
  
Sarah swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.  
  
“I think I’ve done it.”  
  
Mandor looked incredulously amused. “You’ve done it?” he repeated, the tone of his voice indicating that he didn’t believe her at all. Even she had to concede the claim sounded outrageous.  
  
“Well…I had just come home from my trip through the Labyrinth,” she forced herself to say the word this time, forcing down the feeling of oddness that came with it, “and I was in my room sitting at my vanity putting some things away and I heard my name being called from within the mirror, and one by one all the friends I had made there said goodbye inside the reflected mirror image of my room and…and I was just overcome and I wished they could all be there for real, and the next thing I knew the room was just full-to-bursting with all the creatures I’d met there! It was a huge party and a small miracle that my parents didn’t hear! I think I must’ve fallen asleep because I don’t remember anyone leaving. The next morning they were all just gone and I started wondering if it had happened at all when the dreams started.”  
  
As Sarah talked, she watched as Mandor’s expression changed from almost parentally patient and polite to something pensive and terribly serious. The gravity did not follow to his voice, however.  
  
“I can see how you could get that impression,” he began amiably enough, “but chances are what really happened was that the portal that Jareth drags with him when he attempts to shadow-travel was left partially open for a while in the general vicinity of your house and had not yet fully closed at that point.”  
  
It was a decent, logical explanation, and yet Mandor remained serious, almost as if he questioned it himself, and he silently edged down on the accelerator a bit. If this unlikely power of hers was truly that great and uncontrollable, he needed to deliver her to Suhuy with all due haste. Untrained, she was a danger to herself and anyone around her.  
  
The picturesque rock formations and gently sloping hills suddenly fell away. Looming up ahead was a mountain range that ran from horizon to horizon; they were crossing an open lightly vegetated plain toward it. Think thunderheads roiled darkly over the peaks and periodic lightning flared out, rumbling in the distance. Mandor abruptly broke the silence.  
  
“I had been trying to avoid this place but it’s been dogging us for half the time we’ve been on the road today. These are the Dancing Mountains, the official dividing landmark between the shadows of Order and the shadows of Chaos, and we are being forced to traverse the pass. The road is no difficulty - I can make it wide enough to accommodate our vehicle - but that storm,” he pointed, “is no ordinary cloudburst. It is a Shadow Storm, one of the permanent fronts natural to this area. Once we pass into it, you must close your eyes and keep them closed until we are through. It is not anywhere near as harrowing as a hellride through shadow but it may still be rather disorienting and I don’t want you taking any unnecessary risks, all right?”  
  
Sarah nodded. Mandor closed up the car and they began to climb. There wasn’t much of a view at first but it was a relief to be seeing trees again, all evergreen though. Up and up they went, back and forth, around hairpin curves, laboring up the side of the mountain; Sarah’s ears popped twice. Rain then snow battered the windshield and just before the clouds enveloped them she closed her eyes as she had been bade but she could still hear. The weather outside the car seemed to follow no predictable pattern: bright light and deep shadow and all manner of precipitation lumped together randomly. Sometimes she thought she heard voices or animal cries, but then it would just be raining again; this continued for some time. Sarah couldn’t be sure but she thought they had begun to descend again when there was a blindingly bright flash of light and the car came to a screeching halt. She opened her eyes in surprise, momentarily forgetting Mandor’s warnings, and simply couldn’t believe what she was seeing: the entire world had gone grayscale like an old black-and-white film and they were parked in the middle of an open smooth volcanic rock valley! The sky was pure white, cloudless.  
  
Considering everything she had been through, perhaps it was natural that Sarah did not automatically panic at this, or perhaps her sense of reality was already starting to bend and twist at the edges, the surrealness overwhelming her logic into calmness. In any event, she didn’t even realize they were in trouble until she looked over and saw Mandor furiously fighting with the ignition switch, trying to get the car to start again, failing, producing one of his spheres to try to force it, failing. That’s when Sarah finally panicked.  
  
“What’s wrong with it? Please tell me we’re not stranded out here!”  
  
She was even further bewildered when her companion began to answer her very nonchalantly in a language that was complete gibberish to her and stopped mid-sentence as if he had just realized it himself! Belatedly, Mandor noticed that he was not speaking English but, rather, unfiltered Thari, and was suddenly aware of just how dire their circumstances might actually be. He brought out his entire pouch of metal spheres. All were dead, including the one he had been using as a translator. His trumps were just cards - no coldness, no magic. No electricity. Nothing. He inwardly cursed his overconfidence: they had been very neatly shepherded right into one of the notorious dead zones of the wastelands at the Border. It would be possible to shadow-walk out of here provided it wasn’t a deliberate trap, but the feat wouldn’t be easy. And, he remembered, he had to do it quickly because the longer the ring he had given Sarah was out of commission, the greater the risk of her accurately assessing the danger of her whole predicament and freaking out on him. He did his best to outwardly remain calm and confident, putting his magickal accoutrements away.  
  
Sarah was getting more nervous by the second. She didn’t have to be told to know that the car was dead and Mandor’s powers weren’t working properly. She just hoped he had some kind of a backup plan or they were probably going to die out here. She was watching him intently as he unbuckled and she quickly followed suit when he motioned for her to do the same. He put their remaining water bottles in a material sack she hadn’t seen stashed behind his seat and got out of the car. She grabbed the overnight pouch and went to get her books but he stopped her, shaking his head with a smile. They disembarked.  
  
It was painfully awkward not even being able to ask him what was going on; as far as she knew, Mandor’s natural English was virtually nonexistent. She pulled the sleeve of his jacket lightly to get his attention and pointed at the car.  
  
“Dead?”  
  
Sarah was relieved that he actually seemed to understand the word as he emphatically shook his head no, but he struggled for some seconds to come up with the correct response.  
  
“Block,” he finally managed thickly, putting down the sack a moment to show the idea in pantomime with his hands. What he was trying to communicate suddenly dawned on Sarah.  
  
“Oh, you mean there’s some kind of interference that’s screwing with everything here? Sheesh.” The thought was very sobering. “We’ll be okay, you think?”  
  
He could tell by the delivery, the look in her eyes, that she was asking whether they were going to make it. She had no illusions; her survival was entirely in his hands. He wanted so badly to explain but he simply lacked the vocabulary, so he answered in his own instead, keeping his tone soothing and assured. Then laughed at his own deficiency and shrugged.  
  
“Small English,” he said at last in his foreign pronunciation, holding out his right hand for Sarah to take. “Come.”  
  
At least he seemed to have a plan; that was something. The ground was wavering slightly in the light like a mirage but it wasn’t hot. Perhaps it would be enough to work some small changes. Sarah just couldn’t get over what Mandor’s natural voice and language sounded like; she had been conversing with him so extensively in English that she had nearly forgotten it was only by a trick. His native tongue sounded like many foreign languages all at once, almost as if every last language she could possibly imagine had one common ancestor, and he spoke it fluently. It sounded like water tumbling down rocks in a streambed; she could hardly separate the words.  
  
As they walked, the valley floor began to noticeably narrow, arguably her companion’s work; she’d seen this once before and now it gave her hope. She still wanted to ask what he meant to do about the car but wasn’t about to break his concentration for such an exercise in futility when he was clearly doing his best to save their hides. Dense low foliage had begun to grow around them, thicker, taller, still gray. At last at a certain point in what had by now by now become a rock wall to their left, a large crevice appeared; he stepped inside with a smile and motioned for her to follow. This was it, their ticket out; she could feel it. He tightened his grasp on her hand as total blackness closed in. The floor of the cave was unnaturally smooth; even in the dark Mandor seemed sure of where he was going. After a while he stopped and, with a slight spark, she saw he had produced an orb that was glowing a faint blue - some of his magic was beginning to work again! Before long, what she had predicted turned to reality; there was not only light but color streaming in from the exit. Sarah let go and ran the rest of the way to the mouth, almost half-expecting what she saw: they had come out on the opposite side of the mountain range. A large vermilion sandy desert spilled out ahead of them. Mandor sighed with relief as he walked out into the light, rechecking his arcane instruments and reactivating the translator.  
  
“I really am terribly sorry about that,” he resumed his artificially fluent American English, “but I believe that roadblock may have been deliberately placed for me. There are pockets of magickal ‘dead zones’ in certain areas of the Great Divide where the two powers are equal to the point that they cancel each other out. We were lucky enough to be able to just walk out of one. Hang on, I’ll get the car.”  
  
He took a few paces out onto the sand and began to concentrate. The inky blackness of the Logrus appeared as it had the first time in her room, and Sarah watched as Mandor sunk in his arms up to the elbows as before but lower to the ground this time. After a few seconds of searching around in there, he seemed to grab something and, crouching and backing up, began to pull the front end of their own black-and-white Camaro out of the abyss; the top was down. He managed to get it out up to the driver’s seat, hopped in as if there was nothing unusual about this, powered it up, and drove it the rest of the way out of the void. The portal closed of its own accord. Sarah walked up to it cautiously but then recognized the altered reptilian leather and the stuff in the backseat. It was their car, all right.  
  
As the Camaro screamed across the sand, leaving a large red cloud in their wake, Mandor reached over to the stereo dial and turned it on for the first time in the entire trip. They were greeted with radio fuzz.  
  
“Why don’t you try to find us something to listen to?” he invited her.  
  
Sarah balked. “I thought there weren’t any people out here!”  
  
“There are a handful of frequencies that will come and go. It can be a useful barometer for telling when we’re in shadows that support intelligent life.”  
  
It was an interesting prospect. Sarah grabbed the radio tuner and began slowly flipping through the AM dial. Mandor glanced over and was glad the idea had appealed to her; the closer they got to Chaos the easier shadow was to manipulate and he thought it wisest to keep his itinerant little protégé good and distracted so she couldn’t accidentally interfere with the necessary changes again.  
  
Sarah almost got one station that sounded like articulate speech for a brief moment but it was soon gone and she switched over to the FM. To her surprise, a cluster came on immediately, three frequency bands so close together it was difficult to tune any one of them clearly. A few more miles and two of them dropped out, leaving a music station of sorts; the song that was currently playing had a decent fast rhythm to it but the instrumentation was just downright bizarre and the vocals were screechy. She quickly turned it back to static higher up the dial. Nothing else right now; she clicked it off. Looking back up, she saw how much ground they had covered so quickly and rapidly came to the conclusion that he was deliberately attempting to keep her preoccupied so she wouldn’t notice. Well, she could help that, too.  
  
“Mandor, what was that language you were speaking when the translator went out? I’ve never heard anything like it.”  
  
He smiled. “You wouldn’t hear it on Shadow Earth. That, child, is Thari, mother-tongue of the Two True Worlds and about two-dozen shadows near both of them, the ones close enough for commerce and trade. There are a handful of dialects and pronunciation variants, although High Chaosian Thari is supposed to be purest. You’ll be hearing plenty of it soon enough.”  
  
_Why am I not surprised?_ Sarah mentally rolled her eyes. _Are we there yet?_  
  
“I wasn’t just wasting your time when I mentioned the radio,” he continued.  
  
_Good grief, can he read my mind, too?!_  
  
“We’re only about fifteen miles out from the second stop; you should be able to gage the distance by how many stations pop up, regardless of quality,” he smirked slightly.  
  
And so, Sarah continued to search the dial, and gradually she began to come across a growing cluster on the FM - mostly talking but a little frenetic rustic music as well - that did indeed seem to signal the presence of some kind of civilization. Those voices were deep and the language was paced in comparison to Mandor’s Thari, with distinguishable words here and there, not that any of it made sense to her.  
  
“Will you be making it so I can understand them again?”  
  
“Yes, but only once we’re there. My reserve translation spell is a simple device that won’t last as long.”  
  
They had left the red desert behind ages ago but the route they were taking was still relatively arid regardless of whatever shadow it happened to be at the time. It was obvious Mandor was trying for the black-with-phosphorescent-lichen look again. Sarah was starting to have a hard time looking out the windows; she was beginning to feel slightly color-ill, as if she had been in the fabric store for too long, and eventually just shut her eyes against it. She still felt the movement; they were going over and around hills again. The motion was almost lulling and she’d nearly fallen asleep when Mandor suddenly exclaimed,  
  
“Aha! Look!” He pointed out the front window and she was jolted to alertness just in time to see: they were about to drive down a steep hill into a sparsely populated shanty-town below that couldn’t have been more than four city blocks square on either side of a short main drag. She also spotted the radio towers on a nearby hill and there was a watchtower, too; a large black flag with an erect dragonesque red serpent was flying from the height and a long wailing trumpet blast seemed to announce their presence. The locals were running out of the buildings to line the street.  
  
“This small outpost was constructed at the behest of the noble houses of Chaos shortly after the fall of the Black Road in the aftermath of the Patternfall War, as a way station to serve those of us traveling out into Order and coming back from it,” Mandor quickly explained. “These people are not native to this shadow. We searched for recruits who would willingly emigrate here for a ‘higher cause’. Admittedly, the concept and setup is strictly Amberite and the unmerited adulation does tend to annoy me on principle, but it’s hard to argue with a system that has proven to be so effective for our rival power,” he sighed as he switched on a politician’s glossy smile and commenced waving to the enthusiastic, cheering crowd as they slowly rolled into town.  
  
Sarah immediately wished they were back in Lizard Land: even at their genial best, these creatures looked positively predatory. They were once again upright and the average height of men, but all had terribly bloodshot eyes, shiny tight gray skin, and very sharp-looking teeth set into protruding jaws with a pronounced underbite. The effect was almost reminiscent of barracuda. She also noted, as she tried to smile and wave without looking as nervous as she felt, that those splayed fingers on display were very long. In fact, each finger had an extra joint and the backs of the hands bore large, weapon-like spurs like a rooster! She had a feeling that this race had been chosen for more than its loyalty - she would certainly not want to be up against one!  
  
Two-thirds of the distance down the street there was a refueling station and Mandor made for it. As he pulled in and parked, he raised his right hand toward Sarah and spoke a single word of Thari. Immediately, she experienced a cool, tingling rush over her head and throat just in time for the attendant to come over and greet them.  
  
“Lord Mandor of Sawall!” the barracuda-man hailed the driver. “This is indeed an unexpected honor!” he bowed momentarily, his elongated dangerous-looking hand placed over his heart. “We see you so seldom. How fare the worlds on the Order side of the Divide?”  
  
“As predictable as can be expected; stable and unsuspecting,” Mandor smiled again, but genuinely this time. As accustomed to him as she had become, this interaction between confederates from the ‘other side’, so-to-speak, left Sarah feeling slightly uneasy. “I did have some difficulty crossing the Dancing Mountains, however, of a kind I almost must speculate on. Tell me, has there been anyone else to come through here in the last few days?”  
  
“Indeed there was, my lord - a hooded, cloaked rider on a strong blue Chaos mount. Naturally, we would have loved to converse with both of them but the rider motioned us silent and signed for us to feed and water the animal only.”  
  
“And which way were they headed?”  
  
“They left in the direction of Chaos.”  
  
Mandor sighed. “Then it is as I suspected. Did you get a look at the rider’s face?”  
  
“Alas no, he was well-shrouded and had no other distinguishing marks that I could see. Had I but known that his identity would be needful for such a distinguished personage as yourself I would have fearlessly unmasked him at once. Forgive me,” he bowed his head in shame.  
  
“You could not have possibly been expected to so brazenly breech protocol by manhandling him thus; there is nothing to forgive,” Mandor offered magnanimously. “However, the fact that someone is clearly attempting to anticipate my further movements means I cannot afford to dally here long. Quickly refuel the vehicle and see to the needs of the girl and you will have my gratitude.”  
  
“With haste!” the man nodded enthusiastically with a grim smile that made Sarah’s skin crawl; those needle-like razor teeth took up nearly half his face. He walked around to the other side of the car and opened the door for her with the surprising flourish of a trained chauffer. The gray adobe building behind the fuel pumps appeared to be his own house and two other creatures received her at the door with great joy and homage. She didn’t even realize until they spoke that they must be female: the build and the face structure were slightly thinner, but these were the only physical differentiations she could see. None of them had any hair and they all appeared to be wearing a kind of uniform, once again black and blood-red (surprise, surprise.)  
  
_This place is like Jonestown waiting to happen_ , Sarah thought as she stepped inside, where she did her best to ignore their unsettling mixture of programmatically worshipful praise and curious scrutiny and managed to ask about getting cleaned up. She managed to take a lightning-fast shower using a pipeless facility equipped with a five-gallon bucket of warm water while Mandor took the break to restock their supplies via shadow. He could’ve just purchased them or even had them for free, knowing these people, but the lack in quality according to his exacting standards simply wasn’t worth it.  
  
Sarah had just dried off and was starting to get dressed when the doorknob turned and a small creature in a plain undyed jumper-dress peeked in - and was instantly grabbed by someone else in the hall as the door slammed closed with a sharp retort. This was followed by the sound of a hard slap and the oddly familiar dialogue of a child being lectured but with the added severity of the threat of personally offending a goddess by viewing her naked.  
  
_Oh brother_ , Sarah rolled her eyes. She would be glad to be leaving this place. Upon quitting the room, she was immediately confronted in the hall by the female she took to be the girl’s mother; the child was hiding behind her, her bright eyes wide in terror.  
  
“A thousand apologies, my lady!” the woman supplicated in her higher but still husky voice, her hands clasped together pleadingly, “she was in before either of us even saw her-”  
  
“Easy,” Sarah interrupted her, almost sorry for this woman’s self-perceived plight, “she’s just a little kid, right? How old is she?” The female notably relaxed and her look of undying gratitude was almost unbearable.  
  
“Three cold seasons. She has just been named Arigáhe,” she said, looking down with a fond smile at the child still clinging to her, peering out from behind her legs. Sarah crouched down to be at eye-level with her. “Come forward! She wishes to see you!” the woman addressed her daughter sternly, and the girl bashfully inched toward her, openly staring at Sarah in wonder. She was almost cute in a weird sort of way. Those full-sized red eyes set into that tiny, softer face looked enormous. Her long fingers were painfully thin and delicate, almost like a baby’s, and there were only blunt lumps of bone on the backs of her hands where the spurs were to develop.  
  
“Hello there,” Sarah said quietly.  
  
“Hello,” the girl answered shyly, then, seeming to screw up her nerve, “Can you do magic?” she asked with a hopeful, expectant look, eying Sarah’s brooch, which was emitting a warm amber-gold glow.  
  
Sarah’s blood ran cold. If these creatures figured out she was powerless, she was probably dead meat!  
  
“Do not push the serendipity of her goodwill,” her mother reprimanded and Sarah knew she was off the hook, but the girl looked so crestfallen she had to say something.  
  
“I don’t have time right now,” she answered in all truth, “but if I come back through this way again I will, I promise.”  
  
Arigáhe’s mock-fearsome features lit up with glee and she ran off down the hall. Her mother looked near tears.  
  
“I cannot thank you enough for your leniency, my lady,” she began to bow and scrape but Sarah was already headed toward the door, sick to death of the cultlike atmosphere. Annoying nothing - the level of personal veneration here was positively obscene! In seconds she was once again in the safe haven of the Camaro and they quickly pulled out of town, with the general populace crowding the street behind them, tearfully waving goodbye. Five turns later the place was gone and Sarah exhaled in relief, closing her eyes.  
  
“You have gotta give me better advance warning the next time you’re anticipating a situation like that,” she pulled a hand over her face; at least she was decently clean now.  
  
“And have you all tense and worrying about how to act and what to say when a calm, natural reaction will serve better? I think not,” Mandor replied with a cool smile. “Although I did warn you that the general attitude is a bit much to take, especially when you’re not used to it.”  
  
“Not used to it?!” Sarah echoed incredulously. “You’re telling me there are powerful assholes out here who do that on purpose and then live there?”  
  
“Of course,” the Chaos lord answered matter-of-factly, “but most of them are on the other side of the Divide. Besides, that was our last civilization stop. From here out, we have only about two more hours on the road and we’ll gain the trump point. We could be there quicker but I am going to try for a more obscure path to shake the man who’s been dogging us.” The land began to shift spectrum again.  
  
“But there’s really no way to know who it is at all,” Sarah suddenly thought out loud, “not if they were that well-covered. It could’ve been a man or a woman.” She glanced at him. “Or neither.”  
  
“I know, the thought occurred to me, also, to say nothing of the fact that they could have been shape-shifted. There’s also a good chance that the blue Chaos horse was a decoy simply to gain entrance to the town.”  
  
“But why on earth would they do that? I mean, those people are definitely deluded but they’re terribly observant and the person didn’t do anything worth noting.”  
  
“Wrong,” Mandor stated darkly. “They announced their presence by doing that, knowing that I’d find out about it in a day or two local time. I’m fairly certain now that what happened to us in the Dancing Mountains was not an accident but rather a taunting warning that someone who thinks themselves powerful is about to try to challenge me.” He gave a cold, sideways grin. “They had better pray they’re up to it.”  
  
The fact alone that Mandor seemed so confident about facing an enemy that strong did nothing for Sarah’s growing sense of just how alien this manlike creature was that she was riding with, but at the same time it eased her nerves a bit. It was good to have a scarily accomplished sorcerer as your bodyguard.  
  
Sarah belatedly turned off the radio; it was all fuzz again. Where they were traveling through currently had plant life that looked like something straight out of a stoner’s daydream: plastic-looking daisy-type flowers in bright colors that grew as tall as trees and black-and-purple shrooms big enough to be tool sheds lined the dirt road as far as the eye could see - which, admittedly, wasn’t that far. The view was obscured by a heavy pink mist and Sarah saw that Mandor had just hit the ‘recirculate cabin air’ button.  
  
“If my pursuer is stupid enough to try to track the car through here, the fumes will quickly persuade him or her that they’ve unexpectedly achieved a Nirvana-type state and will blissfully wander this overgrown garden for the rest of their lives - which probably wouldn’t be long,” he noted as they had to wait for an absolutely monstrous-sized centipede creature to cross the road in front of them. Down a steep ravine, the air began to gradually clear until the toxic exotic flora was completely gone, replaced with vaguely more normal flora, and they could once again roll down the windows.  
  
“There, that trail should keep them busy for a while. Are you getting hungry yet, Sarah?”  
  
“A little. I’m presuming you got us food in that settlement, then,” she glanced at the backseat, seeing another basket.  
  
“Put it together there, yes - procured it from the locals, no,” he gave a wry lip-smile. “Those people are noted for their intense loyalty, sickening bravery and considerable fighting skill, but their food - while technically edible and nourishing - leaves something to be desired. It should be safe to pull over soon. Ah, yes, here we are,” he said as a pristinely kept photo-negative park came into view. Mandor pulled off the road and parked on the bright red grass. Such a sight would have once disturbed the Sarah of Shadow Earth, but she had been quickly forced to learn to take reality as it came. Now the scene only made her think of brilliant autumn colors, just exploded all over everything. He took the basket and she took the blanket and together they walked over to a nice shady spot beneath a large deciduous tree, the light reflecting beautifully like stained glass through its red-and-orange leaves. Setting up, she saw it wasn’t just sandwiches this time: there were china plates and real silverware and everything in there, including two covered dishes, which he carefully lifted out.  
  
“Wow, what’s the special occasion?”  
  
He looked up for a moment with a small smile.  
  
“To my knowledge, you will be the first human to ever set foot on Chaos soil. I believe that’s worth celebrating,” he stated as he filled her crystal water glass, then his own and raised it to toast. “To Chaos, the Eternal City, and your enriching stay with us.”  
  
“To Chaos,” Sarah repeated, feeling it was expected. The glasses clinked.  
  
Mandor watched her over the rim of his as they drank; the sentiment had sounded quaintly hesitant on her part, but only in the way one might be hesitant before entering the storm. Dinner, however, was no cause for any qualms whatsoever. He lifted the lids and a hot seafood pasta dish with shrimp and bay scallops and a vegetable-heavy antipasto tray were revealed. Sarah took the quiet hint to eat her greens and made sure to take a fair amount of artichoke hearts, olives both green and black, and marinated tomatoes along with a generous helping of the main course. The scene she found herself in was sensorially idyllic: the gentle early-evening light, the warm colors, fresh woodsy air, and strange birdsong all mingled with the complex scents and flavors of their repast. She still had far too many questions, especially now that they were nearly at their destination, but the meal was so exquisitely delicious that she couldn’t seem to stop eating even long enough for the briefest conversation until her plate was nearly empty. Mandor didn’t seem to find the silence objectionable and had proceeded in like fashion; periodically she caught him glancing briefly at her with a small, secretive smile.  
  
“Save room for dessert,” he instructed as she was on the verge of taking seconds, casually dropping the dirtied dishes into a small Logrus portal and pulling out two custard glasses of a rich, citrusy blood-orange gelato with grated dark chocolate shards. It only took one taste for Sarah to recognize it was the same fabulously addictive bean he’d served her two nights ago as hot chocolate.  
  
“You’d better not let me have this stuff too often or you’re gonna have a junkie on your hands,” she laughed.  
  
“Everything in moderation,” was the prompt reply. It would’ve sounded parental if it hadn’t been for that sly note in his voice. “Glad you like it.” He savored a spoonful of his own.  
  
Sarah was only halfway through her cup when she heard rustling coming from some large bushes back behind the car. The foliage parted in several places and she nearly dropped her custard glass, her eyes wide in fear: there were six leonine beasts padding onto the lawn! They had immense human faces proportional to their size and gigantic scorpion stingers where their tails should’ve been! She couldn’t tear her eyes away and nearly jumped out of her skin when Mandor placed his hand on hers to stop her from trembling. She looked up at him automatically; his expression was calm as ever.  
  
“Don’t move,” he said quietly but sternly, “I’ll handle this.”  
  
As he slowly rose to his feet, Sarah saw him stealthily get out a couple metal spheres with his left hand, readying them behind his back as he casually paced a few steps forward. The male of the manticora pride strode ahead of the others also and addressed him in Thari.  
  
“Do not let us interrupt; finish your sweet. Our master told us to allow the human girl to enjoy her last meal should she be eating when we caught up with you. You are rumored to be an excellent chef.”  
  
“And who might be paying me such a compliment before attempting to destroy me?” Mandor asked as if the answer couldn’t concern him less. The manticore gave him an blood-curdling smile; its teeth were like a shark’s!  
  
“That would be telling.”  
  
“Pity. You could have kept your life.”  
  
“You mistake my intentions, Lord of Chaos. You are not our mark; the girl is.”  
  
“She is only a human shadow-creature,” Mandor rejoindered, “what interest or threat could she possibly be to your master?”  
  
“Our master does not take kindly to the forces of Chaos making inroads into the Order worlds. It is a matter of principle, you see.”  
  
“Then he would stand to gain far more by providing transport and safe haven if he wishes to recruit for the Pattern of Amber. Loyalty, too.”  
  
“It is too late for that,” the manticore replied darkly. “She bears the mark of the Logrus. She is defiled beyond any repair. Therefore, she must die.” He began to advance and so did the others, growling low. Mandor stood his ground.  
  
“You realize, of course, that I cannot stand by and let you do this; I have been charged with her protection.” He brought his left hand forward, revealing the spheres.  
  
“Then I regret to inform your lordship that you will be joining her,” the manticore snarled. “The girl’s death will be swift and merciful compared to yours for this impedance. I will relish separating your limbs from your body and feasting on your flesh while you yet live.”  
  
Mandor was on the verge of attempting to paralyze the creature when a spark of intuition intervened. Something didn’t smell right here. It was physiologically unacceptable that these creatures could have followed them through that noxious garden and not been dazed into la-la-land. Not to mention how unusually intelligent they seemed; manticore could speak but a specimen was hardly ever this eloquent, and training them, let alone keeping them, was unheard-of. The Fire Angels bred in Chaos by a few crazy lords were more predictable than these monstrosities, native to the Forest of Arden just outside of Amber. True, they were semi-magical and could shadow-walk unaided, but how had they even lived to get this far out? Unless they had been trumped in…  
  
Thinking fast, he wasted a shielding spell as the male manticore lunged for him, and, making a lightning-quick adjustment, activated both spheres simultaneously and hurled them back toward Sarah with almost a discus-type throw.  
  
“Get away from the tree!” he yelled over his shoulder as he began to shift forms, the pride of manticore throwing themselves against the temporary wall that was already dissolving!  
  
Sarah was instantly on her feet and running for her life out into the clear - and suddenly screamed in surprise as she was catapulted sixty feet straight into the air to hang suspended, hovering above the melee! The two spheres he had thrown were orbiting in opposite directions around the level of her feet at approximately four circumferences per second! Far below, Mandor had morphed into a seven-foot being of green fire. The shield was gone but it mattered little; one of the female manticore had obviously tried to jump him and had simply passed through his body; she was currently on the ground, furiously rolling to smother the flames and her charred fur.  
  
Spells bright and dark were flying out of Mandor’s hands now but few seemed to be having any effect whatsoever. He felt he wasn’t so much up against a pride of man-eaters as he was locked in standoff with a grouped paradox. Any one of the powers he had been leveling at them should’ve been enough to kill the lot instantaneously and yet here they stood, circling him in, swiping, gnashing their great teeth. It was almost as if they were protected somehow and yet they wore no detectable magical protection as such. They couldn’t be confused, controlled, frozen, drowned, impaled, baked, or smothered. Even the Hand of Death Heart-stopper stopped no one. In fact, the only weakness any of them had shown at all had been toward the Electric Hedgehog - a powerful spray of blue lightning that left five of the beasts twitching and convulsing at his feet. He looked up to Sarah, thinking his work nearly finished.  
  
“Enjoying the show?” he called to her, his demonic eyes blazing merry.  
  
…and then one by one they all got back up. He couldn’t believe it! The male had an odd smile as he looked over his opponent’s shoulder and Mandor glanced back just in time to spot the missing manticore in the high branches of the tree, readying to make a leap at Sarah! A single bolt of orange lightning shot out of Mandor’s right hand and struck with perfect accuracy at over 100 yards away, knocking the enormous beast out of the tree. It fell crashing to the ground and twitched and twitched but just wouldn’t die. There was something unnatural in that repetitive movement…  
  
And that’s when it finally dawned on Mandor just how badly he had been played. Before the others realized what he was doing, he’d readied two more spheres and shot into the air himself, shedding his flame-form as he did so, once again assuming his humanoid shape. The pride turned away to take out their vengeance on the Camaro instead, starting by slashing the tires.  
  
“Mind if I join you?” Mandor called over to Sarah as his platform drifted towards hers. “I can conserve a bit of energy if we share one of these.”  
  
“Of-of course,” she stammered, taking his hand as he reached out to her. The orbits intersected and two of the spheres flew back into his open hand; the remaining two served to support them both. “What the hell are those things?!” One of the female manticora was busy ripping up the backseat.  
  
“That does seem to be the pertinent question of the day,” Mandor grimly smirked. “In outward appearance they are manticora, deadly mythical beasts out of Amber, but they’re far more resilient than they have any right to be. There shouldn’t be anything left alive down there but the grass. I wonder…  
  
He tossed down one of the spheres in his hand. As if fell, it rapidly increased in size until it was as big as a boulder; it bounced once, leaving a light crater, and smashed the prone manticore that was still lying under the tree before crashing off into the distance. Sarah winced, turning away before she could see the carnage. Mandor gave an irritated sigh.  
  
“Just as I thought: I can’t kill them because they’re not alive - they’re machines of some kind, look!”  
  
Sarah dared a downward glance. All kinds of metal bits and pieces littered the ground where the sphere had squashed the creature flat - a convincing fur coat concealing an incredibly durable robot body. The giant metal sphere returned, growing smaller - and flew back up into Mandor’s hand!  
  
“Well, one down, five to go,” she exhaled.  
  
“It’s not that simple. The others won’t stand still nicely like that and I’ve already used up nearly all of my fresh spells. Beyond the size change, it’s almost impossible to control that maneuver; I’d probably hit the car.” He suddenly looked over and laughed, seeing its sorry state. “Not that it matters, I see. It’s really not as terrible a loss as it seems, just an inconvenient one. We were bound to lose it before reaching our destination; most motors simply don’t function correctly the closer one gets to the Rim and the…” he trailed off - the answer had just hit him! He quickly fished out his trump deck and thumbed through a few cards, the landscapes she had seen. He didn’t seem satisfied with any of them, however, and put them back in, paused in consideration, then squeezed the pouch in a certain way… and a slit appeared in the interior leather that was completely invisible to the naked eye; in it were three more cards. He looked at her sternly for a moment.  
  
“Don’t tell anyone about this.”  
  
Sarah nodded and he withdrew them. Meanwhile, the manticora had about finished off the Camaro and the male had moved on to the remainder of their gelato, the other four congregating directly below them. The first card was a heavy-looking iron door with a gargoyle knocker.  
  
“Always be careful with your house-key,” he noted conspiratorially, putting it back. They were obviously still out of range. The next was of a beautiful woman with long fiery-red hair wearing a fur-trimmed cloak, a night scene in the background; the edge design of the card was drastically different, light green and far more delicate, as if it were from another deck. There was a sharp intelligence and strength in those green eyes, as well as something Sarah instinctively didn’t trust. Mandor tried to contact her for over a minute, then gave up and put her away gently. The last trump was of the mouth of a crystal-blue cave set into the side of a green, grassy knoll. He seemed to half-heartedly consider it, then put that one away as well. “The cave might actually shake them,” he stated finally, “but we’d have to backtrack too far off course to get there, and if my enemy knows enough about me to know that over 95% of the protective spells I carry on my person only work against an organic opponent I have no doubt that it would simply be a matter of time before he thought to look in a place well-known to block all magic use both inside and out if we just disappeared.”  
  
“So you’re sure it’s a man?”  
  
“Male at any rate,” he shrugged a little, then looked straight down at the remaining manti-bots in disgust. It would’ve been like shooting fish in a barrel if he still had a walling-in spell. As things stood, he only had two spells left, and a bloody-nose-hemophilia-inducement would do nothing to those automatons. That left a visual dazzlement spell, which might work well enough to give them a head-start if he deployed it effectively. The male manticore called up to him.  
  
“You are only wasting time! We both know you cannot stay aloft indefinitely! The moment you tire, you will fall like the great orb you destroyed Creature Three with! Just drop the girl and we will leave you in peace!”  
  
“Okay,” Sarah said a little nervously, “that translation spell you gave me wore off hours ago, what’s really going on here?”  
  
Mandor sighed. He’d hoped to at least spare her this much but he saw now that the truth would help to further his own cause.  
  
“They’ve been sent after you by some pawn of the Pattern. He’s asking me to drop you, but I’m not about to let you come to harm.” He carefully turned around on the small platform. “Climb onto my back.”  
  
“What?!”  
  
“Just do it. Piggy-back style, I think you call it.”  
  
Sarah awkwardly put her arms around his neck as she mounted him; he reached back and gripped her thighs so her position was secure.  
  
“Are we flying away like Superman or what?”  
  
“No, if that were the case he would’ve sent something with wings.” He looked over his shoulder with a little smile. “I’m going to have to outrun them.”  
  
Sarah gaped in shock. “You can’t possibly be serious!” she glanced down at the prowling pride. As real animals, she could almost imagine he had a chance but those robots were practically invincible!  
  
“We don’t have much of a choice. I’m going to try to crash them in Shadow closer to Chaos. What I need you to do is hang on tight, stay down, and no matter what happens you must keep your eyes closed - traveling this fast through shadow isn’t called a hellride for nothing! If you can manage that much you’ll be fine. I’m going to shift into my ape-form now. Just close your eyes,” he prompted gently, “the nightmare will soon be over.”  
  
Sarah closed her eyes as tight as they would go and lay down flush to his back. She could feel he was getting considerably larger and far more muscular; within seconds his thick, coarse fur was tickling her nose and she turned her face to the side. Were the arms holding her legs not just longer but placed lower?  
  
“Ready?” Sarah felt his new, deep voice rumble in his chest.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
He gave her thighs a squeeze and with his third and fourth hands - he had two pairs of arms and legs now. He deployed the dazzlement spell and, with a roar, he hit the ground running at a terrifying pace on all-fours…er, sixes (his second pair of arms being otherwise occupied.) He had become a Chaosian octopal ape, a monstrous silver gorilla with amazing speed and strength and a powerful bite if necessary. He hadn’t told Sarah to hang on for nothing - if it wasn’t for him holding her legs in place with an iron grip, she would’ve fallen off miles ago! It was literally all she could do to keep her head down!  
  
Sarah thought they had already gone through snatches of jungle at least five times from the way he always took to the trees when they were present. His animalistic panting was audible and she could feel his heart pounding in his chest like a hammer. Even with her self-limited sensory input, the rapid-fire changes were overwhelming and after a short period of time she had to simply try to ignore everything. It would’ve almost been easier if she didn’t understand what was really happening. The worst part was she could still hear their pursuers practically on their heels; they were well-matched in speed. Freezing, roasting, dark, wet, the sound of a crash behind, a vertical leap, light so bright it burned through her eyelids, earsplitting screeches overhead followed by angry roars that grew fainter with distance, back into the trees, on and on and on it went until Sarah could scarcely believe she was awake. None of it felt real. A train horn sounded out of nowhere and she heard another smash behind them along with yelling that was silenced in a split-second. It was like flipping through radio stations or T.V. channels. None of it was congruent. None of it made any sense. She was feeling giddy when Mandor made a tremendous leap and seemed to be falling…falling…it was a dream after all and she would wake up any moment now…  
  
Sarah opened her eyes.  
  
All around her reality was cataclysmically tearing apart and splicing back together, dimension upon dimension, melting and flowing in a way that made her instantly nauseous, shattering her nerves. Wildly looking behind, she saw the last mechanical manticore get grabbed by immense suckered tentacles and dragged down into a sea that became a sky that stretched and melted into-  
  
She screamed her lungs out, her mind refusing to take in any more.  
  
“Close your eyes!” she heard Mandor roar and the instinctive fear made it through her shock and she did so. She buried her face in his scratchy fur, desperately willing it all to go away. She couldn’t remember them stopping or Mandor changing back into his human form, only him holding her tightly to himself, stroking her hair, murmuring reassurances in her ear like one would with a spooked animal. She suddenly snapped out of it and belatedly screamed into his shoulder.  
  
“That’s right, let it all out,” he continued, “you’re safe now… it’s all over… everything will be fine… let it go… it’s over now… you’re safe…” the soothing litany continued ad infinitum.  
  
_But it’s not over_ , Sarah thought, standing there with all of her muscles still clenched tight, shaking. It would never be over. Not now. Not if she lived to be a hundred would she ever forget the sight of-  
  
There was a familiar metallic click and she suddenly sagged in his arms as he supported her totally relaxed frame. Sarah couldn’t seem to concentrate; her thoughts were blurred.  
  
“It’s too much, isn’t it?” she heard Mandor’s voice, full of compassion. “I can make it go away, make it all vanish,” he intoned persuasively. Sarah could feel an inky blackness lapping away at the edge of the terrible memory like the waters of Lethe, the Forgetfulness of the Blessed, but for reasons that she couldn’t quite explain - and certainly not in this compromised state - the thought of him erasing the memory was almost scarier than keeping it. She mentally cast about for something to hold onto, something to stave off this calm oblivion, and, to her surprise, she found the Logrus. Rather than the menace she normally felt in Her presence, she felt a kind of cold, alien amusement as she reached out to Her in complete desperation. A single, thread-thin black filament extended and made contact with her, giving her a sudden jolt of strength, both mental and physical.  
  
To Mandor’s complete amazement, Sarah stood under her own power and managed to push him arm’s length away, opening her eyes with a full-body shiver.  
  
“No thanks, I’m fine now.”  
  
Of course she wasn’t fine, he thought, and as a liar she was laughably awful, but there was only one way she could have possibly done that.  
  
Sarah was afraid he would be angry with her for being so stupid or insulted for refusing his generous help when she seemed to need it so badly, but when she dared to look up at him, his expression was a more personable echo of Logrus’ own amusement and she had a sudden sinking feeling that, for better or worse, she had just unwittingly sealed her own fate. That smile was not unkind, however. He lightly grasped her shoulders, looking earnestly into her eyes.  
  
“I will honor your decision this time, but you should be aware that there is no shame in doing this; hellrides are notorious for destroying the minds of shadow-beings. Should you find that you cannot live with the memory you must come straight to me, do you understand?”  
  
It was a caring albeit authoritarian sentiment but Sarah mutely nodded agreement. She understood what she had been afraid of now: setting the precedent of passively letting someone else control her. She would be here on her own terms or not at all, in which case she would manage; she knew that much with an odd certainty. He released her.  
  
“Do you need to rest a bit before we complete our journey or are you fit to continue?”  
  
Sarah sighed. “Getting there just involves stepping through a card, right?”  
  
“More or less, yes.”  
  
“Then let’s just get this over with; I’m exhausted,” she blearily shook her head.  
  
He nodded agreement. “Very well.”  
  
As he procured the correct trump, Sarah finally thought to look around at where they were. In comparison to the places they had been traveling through, the color scheme here was remarkably dull; she couldn’t imagine a more barren, featureless gray plain, a gloomier slate-green sky, except there were faint stars in the dimming light of the evening, and they seemed to be dancing…  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
(the alien radio music: the final hidden track on Trillian Green's _Metamorphoses_. You'll see what I mean:)


	4. Warped

Chapter 4 - Warped  
  
Safe at last in the midst of a drab nowhere after their arduous travails through Shadow, Mandor was readying the trump that was about to lead Sarah through to his private residence near the Courts of Chaos when he suddenly remembered: the atmosphere. He had nearly forgotten that the outside Chaosian air would be deadly toxic to a human. Natives simply switched up into their stronger forms to be out-of-doors; some of the compounds would even sicken them in their humanoid bodies if they were out in it for too long of a period of time. But Sarah only had to be out in it for a moment… He covered the card, severing the contact.  
  
“What is it now?” Sarah asked, both fatigued and growing anxious.  
  
“Nothing major; just a slight annoyance,” he reassured her. Summoning a Logrus portal, he retrieved a long, thin white cloth; it looked like it was soaked in water; he wrung out the excess. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to bind your eyes. Where we are about to go, the outside air could easily damage your more delicate membranes but we shouldn’t be outside for more than a few seconds. All right?”  
  
Sarah laughed a little humorlessly, shaking her head. “Whatever has to happen here.”  
  
Mandor carefully tied the wet material over her eyes, making certain there were no gaps, and activated the trump again. He put his left arm about her shoulders to guide her.  
  
“Now, I need you to prepare to take a deep breath and hold it while pinching your nose closed tightly, mouth firmly sealed shut, and be ready to walk forward on the count of three. One…two, inhale… and three!”  
  
Sarah was quickly marched across what sounded like a short gravel walkway and hurried through what she presumed was the heavy door she had seen because it slammed shut behind them with an echoing thud.  
  
“Breathe.”  
  
Sarah let go of her nose and immediately coughed a little; even with such precautions her lungs and sinuses still stung slightly. She heard Mandor sigh.  
  
“Home, sweet home,” he noted dryly. Sarah had gone to remove the material from her eyes but he stayed her hand. “Not yet. Somehow I don’t think you’re quite up to seeing the rest of the house. I have a set of specially-prepared rooms for your use if you would simply follow me,” he took her by the hand and led her down the hall. Sarah mentally rolled her eyes. Nothing could possibly faze her anymore; she felt certain this had to be overkill.  
  
She was, of course, dead wrong. The trump with the door was in fact a sham image that concealed an unmarked wall of plain rock - another illusion - which led into Mandorways proper, and the slam she had heard had been artificially produced by a trick using a crystal to trap and later repeat a specific sound. The receiving room was actually at the bottom of an alien ocean but the indoor pressure was magically normalized; a large window showed ugly luminescent fish swimming by and periodically eating each other. A couple of floating end tables lazily drifted about the stuffed black chairs. Sarah had just unknowingly walked through a wall of slow fire to enter the hallway. It was a time-honored Chaosian tradition to drastically separate the rooms of one’s house by at least a couple miles, if not nearby shadows, both for aesthetic and protective reasons, and to move between them in a manner similar to quantum tunneling through a series of professionally patched-together ‘Ways’ (hence the common name for the high-ranking demesnes.) Even if the proverbial divided house cannot stand, the literally divided house can more easily withstand outside attack.  
  
But Sarah didn’t need to comprehend this just yet, Mandor mused as he led her through rooms in no less than four successive shadows, each without any obvious visible entrance or exit points - certain sections of the walls alone sufficed, seeming to dissolve as they passed through; if Order rendered shadow-walking nearly impossible, Chaos made use of the fact that it was far too easy here.  
  
Unseeing, the place seemed normally cohesive to Sarah, however, and she was working hard to remember the layout as they went: foyer, dark hall, a large bright room with a tile floor (their steps echoed), a straight staircase going up, a smaller darker room (carpeted), another wider hallway (this one bright on the right side - probably windows), and a turn to the left, stopping. She heard a heavy wooden door open and was led inside; it closed behind them.  
  
Mandor had given painfully specific instructions to his regular Shadowmaster before he left that the walls of the library were to be protectively sealed to the best of the man’s ability; it simply wouldn’t do to have his human charge accidentally pass through the wrong wall into a physically hostile shadow or, to borrow the Shadow Earth slang, ‘take a Wiley Coyote dive’. One of the guest apartments had also been reattached here as a conveniently close living quarters, complete with a visible doorway which Sarah could easily use without having to understand the whole process.  
  
“Here we are, then,” he announced, carefully untying the bandage from about her eyes; Sarah couldn’t believe just how conscientious he was being - he didn’t yank a single strand of hair. She opened her eyes and gasped: they were standing in the entrance of an immense open two-story oval room that was easily five times the size of her high school gymnasium. Every last inch of wall space was lined with bookshelves stuffed full of every last tome not under the sun, with a spacious wraparound walkway on the second level. There were sofas and a large professional-looking desk closer to this end, and a long study table and chairs near the other with smaller furniture scattered throughout. A large lit fireplace was set in the right wall. With the exception of some slight gilding here and there, she was surprised to see the colors in here were soft and neutral. The whole place looked warm, bright, inviting.  
  
“Welcome to Mandorways, or, rather, my library to be a bit more precise,” he invited her in with the universal sweeping arm gesture of ‘after you’.  
  
Sarah paused. “You’re sure I can handle being in here?” she asked in mock-dire seriousness with a theatrical frown.  
  
“Go on, explore, Earth-child; it is safe for you in here,” Mandor replied with a slightly amused smirk. “Oh, I nearly forgot! Look up.”  
  
As she did so, he said a single word of Thari and the ceiling went black and starry with a crescent moon, but these heavenly bodies were stationary, not the riot of color and movement that was probably happening outside. Still, she’d only seen this many stars once farther upstate, away from all the city lights. Was that the Milky Way over there?  
  
“I thought it might be comforting for you to be able to see a facsimile of the sky of your home shadow and to mark your days by it. Apparently human circadian rhythm is rather inflexible and if it is not maintained - even artificially - the body quickly weakens. Our own reckoning of time varies somewhat, along with nearly everything else here.”  
  
“It’s beautiful,” Sarah said, shaking her head in wonder, beginning to slowly wander the ground floor, checking everything out.  
  
What Mandor wasn’t about to tell her was that the entire appearance of the room was just as finely-crafted an illusion, designed to help her transition into life in the Courts. Mimicking Pattern-style order this close to the true Logrus was almost blasphemous but it wasn’t to be for long. Lessons in the practical applications of the sciences in this world were to be taught alongside the more necessary arcane topics. With knowledge would come confidence and, following confidence, ease. As her studies progressed, he planned to slowly revert her current chambers back to their natural condition and, in time, give her more freedom of the house. But for right now, she desperately needed to mentally cling to forms that she understood as normal after such an ordeal; it was a reasonable concession, and one that would further engender her trust in him.  
  
“I speak truthfully when I tell you that the sight of that ceiling alone would be enough to paralyze half of Chaos,” he remarked, pacing into the room with his hands clasped behind his back, glancing up momentarily. “Lack of manpower or fighting skill didn’t lose the Patternfall War; widespread agoraphobia did. Many within the Courts had never set foot out-of-doors once in their lifetimes.”  
  
Sarah was shocked. “Never? But why? Oh, it’s the atmosphere, isn’t it?” she answered herself.  
  
“Not as much as you’d think, actually; it’s perfectly safe for us to be outside in our power forms - you’ve seen two of mine - but it has more to do with the fluctuating nature of Chaos itself. The world outside the shadows we directly control indoors can be hard to predict.”  
  
Sarah had just about had it with Mandor’s cryptic speech. “Okay, I don’t know if you’re doing this on purpose or what, but you do realize that you’re not really explaining half of the stuff you’re talking about so I can understand it, right?”  
  
Mandor gave a tired, jaded little smirk.  
  
“Then let me explain your situation as it currently stands. Until further notice you are residing on a physically hostile alien planet; if you so much as open a window in the wrong room you could die. You are here on my own hospitality and expense and I will do my best to properly care for you as long as you are my charge. I will arrange for Lord Suhuy Swayvil to give you private tutoring in the Logrus as it fits into his schedule and he, not I, will determine when you are capable enough to safely return to Shadow Earth. You will also be instructed in other basic topics pertaining to our world, namely history, science, social custom and conversational Thari. In fact, I will insist on your speaking it exclusively in my house,” he said, getting out one of his spheres and walking over to the desk. “I can count on one hand the number of people here who can speak your native tongue at all, let alone fluently, without arcane assistance, and if you are to have future dealings with Chaos it will be imperative that you have a working knowledge of our own language.” He clicked the sphere on, set it on a small holding pedestal and covered it with a bell-jar. “Starting now. I know you are curious but don’t tamper with this,” he added offhandedly, digging a set of keys out of one of his pockets and unlocking the shallow front drawer of the desk.  
  
It took Sarah a second to realize that those were not the actual words he had spoken, but that she had understood them all the same and it suddenly dawned on her that it was his own translation spell in reverse! She went to speak and found the Thari words coming as easily as if she had spoken this amazing language her entire life.  
  
“So is this just until I learn properly?” she asked slowly, careful to get the pronunciation right. Mandor looked up from rummaging around and smiled, seeing that his device worked well, and nodded.  
  
“It is for the time being. Full immersion will greatly aid your speed in learning but I do intend to turn it off in a few weeks’ time, so pay close attention to the words you speak and hear.” He located his quarry and locked the desk back up. “Come over here.”  
  
Sarah crossed the room to join him and he presented her with a single trump, face down.  
  
“You once flattered me by saying you would have a trump of me when you barely knew me at all. I am repaying that trust. Take it, it’s yours.”  
  
Sarah carefully took it by the edges, feeling the familiar coolness, and flipped it over. Pictured against a deep-blue curtain was the now-familiar form of a tall, pale, lithe man with shoulder-length white hair, wearing his eternal black-and-white, seated in a high-backed black-painted chair with bat-type wings carved into the top, lounging casually with one leg resting on his knee. His blue gaze was at once calculating but cool and in his right hand were four of his metal orbs, balanced like juggling spheres. He looked unusually serious - it was obviously a formal portrait. The picture wavered and she suddenly saw him standing in front of his desk in miniature and she quickly looked up from it; he covered the trump with his hand, breaking the connection, meeting her eyes.  
  
“I am only giving this to you now because you can already use it, but Lord Suhuy will give you more detailed instructions on their full use and capabilities. This is not a toy to be used casually; only contact me in this manner if it is truly necessary, but then and welcome. You understand the activation process but to sever the link cover the card with your right hand as I have done,” he said, removing his hand; she quickly turned the trump face down again.  
  
Sarah knew she should thank him but the words just didn’t begin to cover everything he was doing for her. Mandor seemed to simply intuit her gratitude and his expression turned oddly to self-satisfaction again but she wasn’t given the time to riddle it out.  
  
“Why don’t you go look at your apartments and make sure I didn’t neglect anything,” he looked past her toward the door at the far end of the room; it was yet another heavy wooden affair with a rounded top, placed at the termination of a burgundy-carpeted staircase on a landing perfectly between the ground and the edged second floor, with two other staircases connecting them to the library above. With slight trepidation, Sarah mounted the stairs.  
  
_If this is another recreation of my room I’m gonna-_  
  
Mandor held his breath as she opened the fake door herself and stepped through… and nothing untoward happened. He exhaled. It worked.  
  
Sarah was a little surprised to find that it wasn’t just a bedroom but rather a small but well-appointed one-bedroom apartment sans kitchenette. She smirked as she surveyed the décor: she had to give him credit - it wasn’t just a copy of her room but it certainly showed the borrowed influence. The sofa along the left wall bore a suspicious similarity to the overstuffed chair that she kept next to her window.  
  
_He couldn’t have helped but see it, really_ , she noted, thinking back. There was an oval wooden coffee table with two large tomes stacked on it. Upon closer inspection, they proved to be the books she had purchased in Lizard Land, translated as promised, albeit with a compromise: the history book was in English but the literature compendium was in Thari. Mounted above the sofa were three framed-in-glass posters, each painted in a different style with Thari titles, presumably from theatrical performances of some kind. Further in was a large desk that looked like it could double as a worktable or even tilt like an artist’s easel. The room was comfortably bright but there was no visible light source. The right wall facing the sofa sported a large rectangular abstract painting that was full of optical illusions, a mind toy that could potentially mesmerize her for hours, working out its intricacies. An open doorway in the middle of the back wall led to the bedroom and bathroom.  
  
No fairytale-princess four-poster-canopied bed in here. A modern-looking full bed with a botanical-print comforter that reminded her of her old wallpaper dominated the room; the walls were painted a light natural green to match. There was a simple vanity - already stocked, she found upon opening the drawers - but it was an elegant simplicity. There were absolutely no childish elements in here. This was very decidedly a young woman’s quarters. A quick look in the closet revealed it was full of a wide array of clothing - both skirt and pants outfits - suited to a variety of occasions. A small selection of shoes lined the inner floor and a small dresser on the left inside revealed practical undergarments and socks. Nearly all of it was black-and-white, but there were a couple pieces near the back of the closet in one other shade - a striking deep blue. In spite of the limited color palate, there was plenty in here that she would thoroughly enjoy wearing, she smiled to herself.  
  
The bathroom was completely modern even if it was a bit on the small side (there was only a square shower stall) but everything looked serviceable and the cabinets were completely stocked with everything she could possibly ever conceivably need, including a potable water carafe and glass. It was a little like being in a posh hotel.  
  
Upon coming back into the main room, she saw her host standing in the outer doorway; he made the show of lightly knocking on the opened wooden door.  
  
“May I come in for a moment?”  
  
Sarah shrugged. “Of course; this is your house.”  
  
“Be that as it may, I will not enter in here without your express permission; I want you to think of these rooms as your own,” he stated, walking in. “Is everything to your satisfaction? Did I omit anything necessary?”  
  
She shook her head no, smiling. “Everything’s just perfect.” Her eyes were almost involuntarily drawn to the painting again and he followed her gaze with a nodding smile of his own.  
  
“I thought you might like this. It’s always been one of my favorites. The artist was a friend of mine.” He noted her lack of reaction. “Just don’t look at it for too long; it has a way of sucking in the viewer.”  
  
Sarah suddenly tore her eyes away. “No kidding,” she laughed, absently running a hand through her hair and stifling a yawn. Mandor took one step closer, his expression suddenly earnest.  
  
“Was there anything else you might need before I leave you to retire? I will be off to the Ways of Suhuy presently to discuss your situation with him and will probably not return until your morning.”  
  
“You’re going there at this time of night?!” Sarah asked incredulously. And then she belatedly remembered. “It’s not really night-time here, is it?”  
  
“One of them perhaps; we largely keep our own hours. I know it isn’t an explanation but suffice to say that things run differently here and you will learn of it soon enough. I’ll repeat my question: did you need anything else before I leave?”  
  
“Yeah, actually, come to think of it. How do you turn on and off the lights? Or are they just on all the time?”  
  
“Clap your hands.”  
  
Sarah balked. “You’re joking. These are ‘Clap On’ lights?”  
  
Mandor clapped twice and they were immediately plunged into darkness; it appeared to work for the library as well. Sarah clapped once tentatively and it all flared back into existence. He looked as amused as she looked dumbfounded.  
  
“Anything else?”  
  
Sarah shook her head. “I guess not.”  
  
“Then I will bid you goodnight,” he bowed, “try and get some sleep. You should have an eventful day ahead of you if I am successful, but in any event I will see you tomorrow at breakfast in the library. Until later, then.” He turned to go and was nearly out the door when he suddenly stopped, considered something, thought better of it, then turned back to her anyway. “Don’t stand in this doorway for too long; it could tire you out.”  
  
Sarah raised one eyebrow. “Why?” she asked guardedly.  
  
His response was an odd little smile. “Because I said so. Goodnight, Sarah.”  
  
Before she could say another word he shut the door after him. The silence was almost deafening but after a moment Sarah practically sagged in relief at being left alone. Then a very curious thought occurred to her: she was actually relieved that Mandor wasn’t there but she had absolutely no idea why, and she puzzled away at the conundrum to no avail as she readied herself for bed.  
  
She wouldn’t fully understand the magnitude of that feeling for a long, long time.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Traversing numerous corridors, passing briefly through dozens of shadow worlds, Mandor Sawall swiftly made his way down the familiar route to one of his uncle’s favorite private residences (the blood relation was on his father’s side, once removed). Lord Suhuy Swayvil was one of the most quietly influential men in Chaos, being the Keeper of the Logrus and tutor to over three-quarters of its current initiates. Incomprehensibly old, Suhuy was still very able-bodied and mentally sharp as ever, and his occult powers had not diminished with age. It was a widely-held private opinion that when the man finally died he would simply crumble to dust and be blown away over the Rim of the Abyss of Chaos, seeing as he did not seem to suffer the indignities of any gradual decline.  
  
At last Mandor achieved the correct shadow; from his vantage point atop a hill he could see the dark stone castle at the peak of a floating island of a mountain, suspended above an ornamental petrified forest in its eternal, gorgeously opalescent blaze. The sky directly overhead was blank white but there was an edge of deep blue creeping in at one horizon. Producing two spheres, he set them in opposing orbits and levitated up in a slower, controlled ascent like a diagonal elevator. Soon he was at the immense front portcullis (which, rather than being an illusion, was actually functional; Suhuy often favored this residence because it was rather difficult for unwanted visitors to gain entrance.) As he strode forward, a moaning howl went up from the stone gargoyle perched on top, announcing his presence. A moment later Suhuy was raising the gate. Even at this late hour he was still in his power form: a horned, half-scaled gray demon with fangs.  
  
“Mandor!” he exclaimed upon seeing him, rushing forward to greet his nephew. “I did not expect to see you for a least another week! Please, come in,” he ushered him into his Ways. They passed down a dark corridor, through two brief completely incongruous shadows - glowing green ghostlike wisps immediately followed by a field of flowing lava. “How went your travails in the static worlds?”  
  
“Mind-numbingly dull at points; it’s good to be back. I’ve no idea how Dworkin Barimen could stand living there long enough to found a civilization.”  
  
“Well, he was technically insane during most of his residency.”  
  
“That would certainly help.”  
  
Both men laughed as they passed through a split-second of a blue snowstorm and came into a small torchlit room with two overstuffed chairs facing each other in front of a gothic stone fireplace. There was a bar in the corner and the walls were covered with heavy tapestries for insulation.  
  
“Forgive my casual human-formed appearance, Uncle, but I’ve had a rather tiring day,” Mandor stated, falling into the chair to the left.  
  
“I can only imagine it must be so if you got here this quickly. Let me get you a drink. Ale? Wine? Something stronger?”  
  
“Wine.”  
  
Suhuy poured two glasses of red and joined him, handing Mandor his glass before sitting in the chair opposite. The Keeper had known this man for most of his life, first as a family member and later as a Logrus pupil, long enough to know that he would tell what he would in his own time, that even this casual stance was an amazingly rehearsed act to attempt to put him at his ease; it would’ve taken an elongated sorcerous duel against an equal - a full day of fighting nonstop - to actually tire him at his current age. Mandor wasn’t maliciously deceptive… well, often anyway. This was simply his nature. It was almost entertaining watching him keep up the act. After about a minute’s companionable silence, Suhuy spoke up.  
  
“So, should I take it by your speedy return that you were successful in locating and recovering the initiate?”  
  
“Yes, the process was rather straightforward, actually.”  
  
“Is it someone with arcane training? Surely a novice could never have survived that trial.” To his surprise, Mandor gave an irritated sigh and got up, beginning to pace.  
  
“It’s only an adolescent girl from Shadow Earth,” he said with an unusually honest note of dejection. He glanced over to see Suhuy, crestfallen. “I know you had high hopes upon receiving the initial oracle from the Logrus. I am sorry.”  
  
“Another pawn,” Suhuy mulled, taking another swallow of his drink. “The House of Sawall already has its fair share by your accounts and Swayvil is simply crawling with them. We desperately need a knight, someone to further the cause of Chaos in the Order worlds, to tip the balance back toward us once more. You know as well as I what peril we sit under if this fails to happen. Already the Logrus’ power is beginning to wane out near the Dancing Mountains. If this continues unchecked, none of us will be above expendability.”  
  
An odd possibility had been forming in the back of Mandor’s mind as the other man spoke and now he voiced it. “Would you settle for a rook?”  
  
Suhuy’s bright-yellow cat’s-eyes met his. “Do elaborate.”  
  
Mandor seated himself again, this time with more grace. “I know she is not the powerful sorcerer you had in mind to train but she has shown a little promise already.”  
  
“She would have to do much more than that. What powers has she evinced?”  
  
“She has managed to use the trumps without any training at all. Twice.”  
  
Suhuy sighed. “You’ll have to come up with something better than that, my nephew. Such a feat would be impressive in Amber but in Chaos such magic is child’s play.  
  
Mandor paused for effect. “She has accidentally shifted shadow with me in the car whilst driving here. On the Order-side of the divide. And apparently this is not the first time. Immediately after her initial trial she unintentionally transported an entire horde of shadow-creatures through a mirror to Shadow Earth. And she has a charged object - a piece of jewelry. The amber-colored glass jewel hasn’t stopped glowing since she crossed the divide.”  
  
Suhuy’s expression lightened as he sat back in his chair, stroking his scaly chin thoughtfully with one black-clawed hand. “That is promising. How is she holding up? Is she still reasonably sane?”  
  
“She seems physically stable but the whole affair has been very traumatic for her. I took the liberty of putting a light spell on her to keep her calm, rational and accepting of her situation so that she is not overly frightened of us or the Logrus. The library and her living quarters at Mandorways have been temporarily glamoured to mimic Order. Of course we will have to test her before going forward with any magical training but I do not wish her disturbed for at least several hours; she needed rest badly. I drove her almost nonstop through Shadow to get here. I believe she is in no current danger but her power is too volatile to leave uncontrolled for long.”  
  
Suhuy frowned slightly. “I can only express the hope that you are more subtle this time, especially since she will be coming into her own power on your watch.” He did not have to mention the previous calamitous attempt to control Merlin to get him to accept the Throne; the wound to Mandor’s pride was all too fresh and his gaze had turned away from him to the fire reflexively.  
  
“Have no fear, Uncle, I plan on keeping things well in hand by far more personal commitment. She has already begun to form an emotional bond of sorts and I am going to do everything I can in order to nurture it. Loyalty will not even be a matter of discussion.”  
  
“She trusts you then?”  
  
“Not perfectly, but there is more than enough time to engender that.” He suddenly glanced back. “Isn’t there?”  
  
“Probably, but I wouldn’t count on it. Not anymore. And especially if we must hide this project from the King,” he added quietly, almost as if he feared his own walls would give them away. “His heart is in the right place but he will uphold our peace treaty with Amber at any cost, even to the point of weakening the Logrus if need be. He should never have finished his education away in Order; it set his interests too far from home.”  
  
“As you state, secrecy must be of the upmost importance, at least until we know what she is capable of. None of my regular serving staff is even aware of her existence, let alone presence, and I intend to keep it this way. Only my Shadowmaster might have something to suspect but he has no concrete information and I paid him well. Speaking of payment, is double your regular rate for Logrus training acceptable? She needs to be tutored in basic matters pertaining to our world along with the courses in magic.”  
  
“That will more than suffice,” Suhuy cracked a sly, sharp-toothed grin, “but I am taking your money strictly for show; you know I desire to do this, especially if it will give us any kind of an edge.”  
  
“I had planned on returning her to Shadow Earth once her training is complete,” Mandor took another sip of wine.  
  
“Excellent! We could use a stealth agent inhabiting a shadow within easy reach of Amber, and, considering in the time-differential, she could be useful to us for at least several centuries Chaos-reckoning.”  
  
“Whatever did happen to our last man on Shadow Earth?”  
  
“He was discovered and sent packing by Prince Julian of Amber with his tail between his legs, both figuratively and literally. A native would be much harder to track on home turf, especially given that Random’s agents are on the lookout for shape-shifters. Others have had limited success by abstaining from the practice but we are still getting routed far too often.”  
  
Mandor shifted slightly, just a second’s fluidity. “Speaking of nuisances, was there anyone else privy to the discovery of the initiate here?”  
  
“None at all; I have honorably conducted this affair with great secrecy. Why do you ask?”  
  
“I was taunted and finally ambushed by a pride of mechanical manticora on the trip back to Chaos.”  
  
Suhuy’s bright eyes widened. “Mechanical, you say?”  
  
“I smashed one to gears and springs.”  
  
“Did they say anything?”  
  
“The automaton that addressed me was remarkably eloquent in conveying the sentiment against the inroads of Chaos felt by an Order initiate, but I more than half suspect the attack may have been of Chaosian origin now that I have had time to think on it; to my knowledge, most Amberites could care less about such technology and the assault showed considerable knowledge of my few defense weak points.”  
  
Suhuy considered it seriously for a moment. “Are you still on amiable terms with her grace Fiona Barimen?”  
  
Mandor gave a knowing lip-smile. “This is not a jilted lover’s vendetta, if that is what you are implying.”  
  
“I am only trying to narrow it down to who might actually be able to so thoroughly anticipate you, but still you should be careful in your dealings with the princess regardless of whatever your feelings might be toward her. She isn’t called the Witch of Amber for nothing.”  
  
“If it were Fi, she wouldn’t have sent a bucket of bolts to do a sorceress’ job. And she would’ve made damn certain I knew it was her,” Mandor stated with a note of jaded amusement. It was followed by a distant look and a very brief private smile that only someone of Suhuy’s training would catch. Despite their massively insoluble political differences, Mandor of the Courts and Fiona of Amber did actually seem to make a remarkably compatible pair; they understood each other in a way no one else did. This, too, was being kept secret for reasons of state; such actions could easily be misconstrued as treasonous for either party. “I know the query was uncalled for but I’ve been trying for hours and I can’t think of a single soul…”  
  
Suhuy nodded. “It isn’t often I see you stumped but I’m glad for your sake that you brought this to me. I will try to discreetly use my lines of influence to see if I can turn up something. In the meantime, did you need to return immediately or would you care to rest a few hours yourself before the real work begins?”  
  
“That is most generous of you and I believe I will take you up on it. As long as I am on my way by greensky I can intercept her for breakfast. Would it suit you to come two turnings later or do you have other matters to attend to?”  
  
“Fortunately, I have managed to clear a decent portion of my schedule to accommodate this, although I do have an appointment much later in the day.”  
  
The two men got up and Suhuy led Mandor through the wall to the right of the bar; it suddenly vanished, revealing the rest of the room they had just occupied: a large bedroom with an intimate sitting area to be precise. Mandor smirked, nodding.  
  
“I did not wish to pressure you into staying, but you see I was prepared for the contingency.”  
  
“As long as your courtesy does not include trying to jar my subconscious into deducing my assailant - no visions tonight, Uncle. I need rest myself.”  
  
Suhuy was surprised. “Merlin told you about that?” he marveled. “After all you put that boy through he still sees fit to confide in you occasionally?”  
  
Mandor just shrugged. “Chosen family can be a stronger bond than blood relation.”  
  
“That’s very true. At redsky tomorrow then. And the library, you said?”  
  
“Yes, and remember your testing equipment.”  
  
“Of course. Sleep well, Mandor.”  
  
“And you, Uncle.”  
  
The ancient demon-formed man stepped past the bar and vanished from what was now the center of the room. Mandor gave a small smile of satisfaction. Aside of the initial glitches, the plan was beginning to run rather smoothly. He thought of the human girl then - his hidden rook, and the possibilities she could provide Chaos - as he went through the motions of retiring. Of course, much would depend on the current physical condition of her brain, he mused, but if all was as he thought…  
  
With a word he extinguished the lights. Through the thin-to-defunct walls came the distant sound of a large Chaos clock, striking the hour backwards.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
(Incidental music: Timothy Lamb, aka Trash80, 'Excuses')


	5. Another Girl's Paradise

Chapter 5 - Another Girl’s Paradise  
  
Sarah awoke with a scream, bolt upright - then collapsed back onto the mattress, panting. And had another shock, although considerably muted compared to the first.  
  
_Strange bed…oh, that’s right._  
  
Mandorways  
Courts of Chaos  
Middle o’ Nowhere, about five-zillion light-years from anything she could call home.  
  
She suddenly thought of Shara and wondered how the girl was making out in her new life - her old life - then realized that she had absolutely no idea what time it was here, let alone there; there wasn’t a single clock in any of her rooms, or indeed in the library, at least not that she had seen.  
  
_I wonder…_  
  
Sarah got up and put on the white robe that ‘went with’ her black nightgown (oh well) and a pair of slippers and wandered over to her front door. She had left her pendant on the vanity where it glowed as brightly as any nightlight. Opening the door and looking out into the library, she saw that the sky on the ceiling was still starry but the moon had set and the background color was beginning to fade a little.  
  
_4:00 A.M. maybe_ , she thought, closing the door. Then thought better of it and left it open so the light could wake her up - she’d have to talk to Mandor about this. She belatedly remembered his vague warning about the doorway and was instantly curious again, albeit with a healthy level of caution for once. Very tentatively, Sarah put her left hand through the portal slowly, halfway to her elbow, held it there for a count of ten seconds, then drew it back in. There did in fact seem to be a palpable barrier of sorts here that had absolutely nothing to do with a physical door; she had simply walked through too quickly to notice it the first time. It had a definite sensation but it was difficult to describe, somewhere between a very thin membrane and a temperature change in a very tiny localized area - warmer. Sarah grabbed the Lizard Land storybook off the coffee table and without a second thought she quickly stepped through the doorway into the library and made her way down the stairs to the couch seated in front of the fireplace; she didn’t feel like being bombarded with light at the moment. Disturbing dreams of her recent past had been plaguing her sleep all night and while she knew she needed to try again, she was in no hurry to get back to bed.  
  
The fire seemed to burn with an unnatural consistency, as if the wood stacked in the grate was only for show, but the golden light was steady and the heat comforting. In no time she was devouring the myths and legends of another ancient civilization: the battle of the gods of the heavens that destroyed half the planet, the ballad of Kazir and Eria and the magical elixir of fearlessness, and humorous tales of a large, dancing desert arachnid who was their Trickster. Eventually, the fatigue of reading the gracefully flowing sigils and the cozy warmth overtook Sarah and she nodded off into a dreamless slumber, the large book draped across her lap.  
  
It is pointless to speak of measuring time by precise hours in such a place, but suffice to say Mandor returned promptly at greensky - approximately early morning in the library - and came in to see if she was up yet. He intended to let her sleep in if she was still out but he didn’t want her to have to wait for breakfast if she was up and hungry; dinner the previous ‘day’ had been very early. No lights on - she must still be asleep. He was about to go when a slight movement in the shadows over by the fireplace caught his eye. Readying a sphere, he noiselessly crept up to the couch - and relaxed with a sad smile. Sarah was there, passed out with the book of tales from that distant reptilian shadow that he had retrieved from the wreckage of the car and translated for her, open as if she had fallen asleep there reading. She’d have a stiff neck from lying at that angle over the arm but he wasn’t about to wake her; she’d obviously had a terrible night. He momentarily considered erasing the memories that were no doubt the cause while she was still unconscious but quickly decided against it; she would find out eventually and distrust him. When she finally got desperate enough, she would ask him of her own free will, and the rest of his and Suhuy’s plans would be comparatively easy once his influence over her was well-established. He only needed to be patient.  
  
Mandor carefully lifted the heavy tome off of her legs - she turned in her sleep - and lay it down on the cushion beside her, then made his way back to the desk and worked quietly on various tasks by a small, glowing spirit-light: social correspondence, important matters pertaining to the House of Sawall (he practically was the house in a political sense at this point), a tentative curriculum for Sarah, which he would have to run past Suhuy, of course, and more of the same.  
  
At last at about mid-morning, he saw definite stirring out of the corner of his eye, and arms that were raised straight and up, stretching. Sarah yawned and sat up, one hand rubbing the back of her neck. She started a little upon seeing Mandor but he just smiled and greeted her.  
  
“Good morning, Sarah. I trust you got some rest at any rate, although I’m sorry it wasn’t in your bed.”  
  
“Just a lot on my mind, I guess,” Sarah tried to nonchalantly brush it off. “How long have you been in here?”  
  
“A while; I returned early this morning.”  
  
Sarah got up, trying to stretch the kink out of her sore neck, and shuffled over. “So you got to talk to your uncle Suhuy, then?”  
  
Mandor stopped what he was doing and swiveled the chair to face her, legs crossed. “Yes, and you had better address him by his title - Lord Suhuy - unless he gives you permission to call him otherwise. I have been very casual in dealing with you up till now but you must realize that this is no democracy, Sarah, and you must behave accordingly. This is a world of inherited rank. Even the clothing I have provided for you states heraldically that you fall under my protection and rule and that of the House of Sawall. If anything were to happen to you here, you would be under my jurisdiction.”  
  
_Eeek._ “So…should I still keep calling you by your first name?” Sarah asked tentatively, embarrassed at how disrespectful it suddenly seemed.  
  
“Perhaps not in public, but in here that will suit me just fine,” he gave a wry little lip-smile. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and dressed and we’ll have breakfast. I plan on having at least one meal with you daily if not two so you do not feel so alone here for at least the first couple of weeks before you are ready to go out. Is this acceptable?”  
  
“Oh, of course!” she nodded, turning and quickly striding back to her room. “So he agreed to teach me?” she yelled over her shoulder.  
  
“Yes, and he’s rather curious about you,” was the resounding reply right before she shut the door. Mandor just shook his head; she was such a child it was almost scary that she had power at all.  
  
Sarah rushed not to keep Mandor waiting any longer than he already had been and soon she reappeared in a long black skirt and a high-necked white blouse with black details and snug-but-comfortable leather flats to match; he nodded approval at her choice. He himself was wearing a long black velvet suit with white Venetian-style lace at the collar and cuffs and a white dress-shirt underneath. He motioned her over to the table and pushed in her chair as she seated herself at the foot. Rather than sit far away at the head, her host seated himself on the other side to her right.  
  
“While we were traveling, I was conserving energy in the way I was procuring our meals,” Mandor stated. “Normally I just do this.” He tapped the tabletop sharply with his fingers and an entire breakfast spread spontaneously appeared, making Sarah jump slightly. There were strawberry crepes, eggs scrambled with bell pepper, thick-cut crispy bacon, ice-cold juice and steaming-hot tea. “I usually serve in courses but let’s let you get used to one thing at a time, shall we?” he noted, passing each of the dishes in turn. “Juice or tea?”  
  
She looked up. “Can I do both?”  
  
“Of course,” he replied genially, filling two cups, then following suit.  
  
Sarah had to concede that in spite of him sort of being forced into this situation - nearly almost as much as she had was, really - he was genuinely trying to be a good host. And the meal was fabulous as usual.  
  
“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she said between bites, “why aren’t there any clocks in here? Is it just a personal preference or is this something that isn’t done in Chaos? I realized very early this morning that I had no way of knowing when I might be expected to get up without seeing the ceiling in here,” she glanced up at the slowly progressing image of the sun; it provided light for the room, but no heat.  
  
“There is such a thing as a Chaos clock but it would be of very little use to you at present, although I see what you’re getting at. I can have a similar display installed in your bedroom if you wish, perhaps formed like a window, so you can tell when it’s morning without having to get up.”  
  
“That would be appreciated, thank you,” Sarah took a sip of juice. She had no idea what it was made from - it was a deep green almost bordering on turquoise - but the taste was sweet and musky without being overly cloying, the perfect compliment to the crepes. “So, when’s S- I mean, when should we be expecting Lord Suhuy’s arrival?” Sarah corrected herself.  
  
“He should be here in a turning-and-a-quarter, or” he pointed up - a small cloud appeared in the perfectly clear blue sky, “when the sun passes under that cloud. You have time to acquaint yourself with the different sections of the library before he gets here and I would strongly advise you to do so; he is a man who does not waste time when it comes to business and you will need to be able to do the necessary reference work yourself.”  
  
Sarah nodded, quickly finishing the bacon on her plate and went to stand up to gulp down her tea when Mandor actually reached over and grabbed her arm to stop her.  
  
“In my house you will eat your meals, not inhale them; sit back down,” he calmly reprimanded, letting go. Sarah took her seat again with slight irritation; she didn’t say anything but her muted expression was imminently readable as she made a show of daintily sipping her tea, pinkie up. “Part of being your guardian means I get to raise you for a while, Sarah,” he continued, “to choose what is right for you at certain times. You had best get used to it,” he said with a frowning little smile, taking a sip of his own tea. Putting down the cup, he tapped the table again and everything vanished except the tea service, to be replaced with a platter of fresh fruit (both familiar and foreign) and two small plates. “Now be a good girl and eat your vitamins; you’re still growing.”  
  
Sarah laughed a little quietly at the role he was suddenly playing, but dutifully filled up her plate.  
  
After breakfast was quite finished, Mandor sketched a rough schematic of the organization of the library for her and left her to her own devices to go explore. The sheer variety of books in this room, both in age and subject matter, was staggering. It would take lifetimes to read it all – let alone understand it - and yet the vast majority of volumes she picked up showed definite signs of wear: dog-eared pages, underlined passages, even occasional notes in the margins, all in the same quick, fluid script. One incidental fact was becoming very clear: Mandor was as bad of a bookworm as she was; he’d just had more time to do it, apparently. Sarah honestly had no idea how old he was and wasn’t about to ask but, if one Chaosian biology book she ran across and skimmed was anything to go by, she would hazard a guess of at least six-or-seven-hundred years (and even at that he was very prematurely gray, so-to-speak.) Quite a number of these tomes were much older than that, however, and more than a few seemed to be only held together by magic. It was an awe-inspiring collection.  
  
She was up on the second level to the left pouring through books of poetry when she noticed that the light was getting a bit dim - then she remembered. Hearing the door to the library open below, she raced across the causeway and quickly made her way down the flight of stairs in the back of the room (why there was only the one set all the way back here was puzzling) and began to cross the expansive room…and suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. She could tell that Mandor had just finished transforming back into a man - his form still wavered slightly - but his companion seriously made her question her guardian’s previous reassurance that this wasn’t hell. The creature with him certainly looked like a very convincing demon: large horns, dark grey-and-red scaly skin, bright yellow cat’s-eyes she could make out clearly all the way across the room, large black-clawed hands. He was speaking to Mandor in a surprisingly human-sounding voice; as he drew closer, she could see his fangs when he spoke.  
  
“No one wants to see a scaly old man. At least in this form it is expected.”  
  
“Just for now?” Mandor pressed. His companion sighed, but it betrayed a kind of fondness.  
  
“Very well.”  
  
And at that, his hideous sinister body and features melted down into a humanesque form, a stooped-over man of greatly advanced years, robed in red and gold, with long white hair and a well-kept mustache and beard, the yellow eyes now a very light brown with regular rounded irises. He walked with the assistance of a small cane now; he hadn’t needed it in the previous form.  
  
“It’s all right, Sarah,” Mandor called over to her, seeing her watching them with decided trepidation, “ this is who we were expecting.”  
  
Still a bit nervous, she crossed the remainder of the room to meet them. The old man she took to be Lord Suhuy saved her the terrible ordeal of trying to figure out how she was supposed to introduce herself.  
  
“And this would be young Sarah Williams of Shadow Earth, then.”  
  
“Sarah,” Mandor quickly interjected, “may I present to you Lord Suhuy of the noble House of Swayvil and Keeper of the Logrus,” he rattled off gracefully; definitely centuries of practice there.  
  
“It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear,” Lord Suhuy said, taking Sarah’s right hand and inclining his head, nearly what Mandor had done upon first meeting her. “Lord Mandor has had nothing but good things to say about you, but I expect no less of him.”  
  
“It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” Sarah offered awkwardly; to her surprise, Suhuy smiled good-naturedly and patted her hand in an oddly grandfatherly fashion.  
  
“Don’t worry about protocol just yet; we shall cover that as well,” he offered generously, letting go of her. “But before anything else happens, I must assess how well your body is handling the Logrus imprint to be certain that your trial did not leave impeding damage and that you are physically assimilating the extra energy adequately enough to facilitate magical use.”  
  
Suhuy reached into his robes and brought forth a thin, clear circle of an unknown substance, the size of a compact disk. Sarah watched, fascinated, as he worked on it, making it grow and expand until it was a three-dimensional low cylindrical pedestal on the floor; it seemed to contain a set of darkly-colored crystal points set in a certain configuration, almost like a primitive circuit. Suhuy stood back up and turned to her.  
  
“Now, if you would be so kind as to simply step up onto the platform and just hold still for me.”  
  
Sarah took his proffered hand and climbed up on top of the arcane device. Suhuy spoke a set of archaic words in a language that might have been the precursor of Thari - she caught the general gist but would’ve been hard-pressed to give a literal translation, something along the lines of ‘activate dark light holy potential.’ And in the next second the crystal platform was glowing - and so was she! The surface of her body had taken on its’ own aurora borealis effect; she gasped upon seeing it, wide-eyed.  
  
“It is all right, Sarah, the Revealer won’t hurt you,” Suhuy reassured her. “This only makes your energy field completely visible. Hold your arms out slightly from your body so I can get a better look.  
  
Sarah did so and he began to putter around the pedestal, seeming to examine different points. Sarah couldn’t stop staring at herself - she was yellow and blue with a swirling overlay of a variety of colors that kept pulsing and flowing as if they had a mind of their own! From the part she could see (albeit, from the inside,) her hands were glowing very distinctly. She happened to notice the ring Mandor had given her - it was emitting its’ own color - a dark blue - and upon turning her arm over she saw that a thin strand of the same color ran up her arm to her heart. She looked down at Mandor, who she now noted was also watching her intently; he caught the wary question in her eyes and gave a slight nod of acknowledgement.  
  
“Is the ring she’s wearing messing up your readings at all, Suhuy?”  
  
“Not really,” the old man replied from behind her, “but I would like you to take a look at this,” he motioned Mandor over. “Sarah, could you lift your hair up and to one side for a moment, please?” She did so as Mandor walked over. Suhuy sighed.  
  
“Just as I thought; she’s only barely metabolizing this, it’s almost too strong. You will note the break point in her thoracic vertebrae and again at the base of the skull where the Logrus energy is trying to escape her circuit. Fortunately it seems to be looping back into the system but it means that even trained her power could be rather volatile, and I will have to be careful not to overexert her during lessons - it could overwhelm her physically. The overall pattern is cohesive, however, and I am not seeing any wild fluctuations. Her body appears stable enough for our purposes.”  
  
“It is about as I guessed, then,” Mandor nodded, “although if you wish to see how she does in a minor Logrus power situation, we could easily set up a demonstration right here and now - remember her power object; I have given her a trump also. You can lower your arms, Sarah; he’s finished with that.”  
  
Suhuy’s brow furrowed in thought. “I am not certain I desire her to toy with a power source we do not yet understand, but I suppose we can check her with the trump, see how she physically reacts at this level. Do you have any objections to this, Sarah?”  
  
“I guess not,” she shrugged. What she mildly objected to was the fact that she was currently being treated like a lab rat, but at least they were still being fairly polite about it.  
  
“Where is the trump currently?”  
  
“In my room,” she pointed. Then looked down hesitantly at the pedestal. “Do you want me to go get it?”  
  
“Allow me,” Mandor stated, walking back around her and facing the door to her apartment. He raised his right hand - the door opened by itself and the trump came flying across the room into his hand! Sarah gaped. “I can only do this because it is one of me,” he offered as he turned back around, holding it out to her. The old smile was still there but it was mostly in his eyes. The moment she took the card from him, she received an unusual burst of insight: he was being deliberately reserved in front of this other man. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it but she would remember the sentiment and possibly be a little cautious herself. Lord Suhuy had given her no reason to distrust him, as far as she could tell, but it didn’t hurt anything to be careful all the same.  
  
Suhuy watched her take the trump and noted the immediate burst of red in her aura but it quickly dissipated - satisfactory. Everything still appeared stable. Mandor had commenced the walk to the far side of the room, in the right corner next to the bookcases. When he got there he called back.  
  
“Try it now, Sarah!”  
  
Doing her best to ignore Suhuy’s almost paralyzing scrutiny, she turned the trump right-side-up and began to concentrate. The upper levels of her energy field responded in a ripple-effect until it began building upon its own synchronicity, the frequency and pulse pattern slowly accelerating. There was a very brief moment when the weak points Suhuy had seen arced out, the power almost too much for the circuit, but it held and within the next moment she made contact and it seemed to even out at the higher level.  
  
Sarah saw in the trump that Mandor had turned away from them and was facing the wall because, seeing him from this angle, she could actually see herself in the background! “Testing, testing, one, two, three, four…”  
  
He genuinely smiled this time. “Coming through loud and clear. Do you want to try the other part of this as long as the setup is here? Just a quick jump across the room?” He reached out to her with his right hand in a receiving gesture.  
  
“Mandor,” Suhuy began to protest, his voice a warning, but he was too late. Sarah saw herself reach out to the Chaos lord through the card; the moment she made tactile contact she jumped forward and vanished in a dazzling chromatic effect, rendered almost blindingly bright by the pedestal - only to reappear in Mandor’s arms a split-second later, herself once more.  
  
“There, that was fairly easy,” he said, letting go of her, “although normally just a hand-clasp and a step forward are sufficient,” he looked down at her, amused.  
  
“MANDOR!”  
  
They both automatically turned around.  
  
“When I said I would like to see her, this also included the continued ability to see in general,” Suhuy scolded him, blinking and squinting, although his expression wasn’t angry. Sarah immediately recognized the prank and could scarcely believe it as Mandor casually strode back as if nothing untoward had happened at all, and she followed him. She knew the man had a sense of humor but this just seemed so out of character for him; there had to have been a reason for this, but what?  
  
“And here I thought you would appreciate the opportunity to make sure she has a healthy transition pattern as well,” Mandor calmly quipped as Suhuy deactivated the pedestal and shrank it down to its previous dimensions, putting it away. A single look passed between the two men and Sarah caught part of it; it was challenge and treaty at once. Suhuy walked over to a nearby couch and Mandor quietly motioned that she should follow.  
  
“The initial battery test which you just underwent is almost completely noninvasive,” Suhuy began again, “but the brain scan I am about to administer most certainly is, however you should not feel much. Please be seated,” he gestured to the couch.  
  
Definitely more nervous this time - now realizing that she had absolutely no idea what to expect - Sarah sat as directed. Suhuy produced a tiny silvered metal hoop and made it grow until it was a little over a foot in diameter. He held it over her head, centered, and let go; it floated there of its own accord like a stereotypical halo.  
  
“Now I need you to hold very still for me and try to relax - this will be over in under a minute.”  
  
With a single word command, the device began to silently, slowly lower over Sarah’s head. True to his word, she couldn’t feel much but what little she could feel was almost sickeningly crawling beyond description. It wasn’t pain, just sensation in a place that there shouldn’t have ever been any feeling at all! She closed her eyes and did her best to keep her breathing steady; she absently realized that she was clutching the cushion she was sitting on.  
  
“Easy, it’s almost over,” she heard Mandor’s voice and felt a steadying hand on her right shoulder. Five more seconds and the thing suddenly dropped lightly about her neck.  
  
“Finished,” Suhuy announced, taking it back off of her as she did a full-body shiver, trying to shake the feeling. He seemed to activate it again, differently this time, sitting alongside her; Mandor pulled up a chair to sit across from them. Sarah forgot to breathe for a second as a beautiful three-dimensional holographic image appeared in the circle: it was a full-scale energy photograph of her brain! Suhuy simply proceeded as if this was the most normal thing in the world.  
  
“It would appear on the whole that you were correct in guessing her current state to be reasonably unharmed,” he addressed Mandor, “but take a very close look at the right frontal lobe.” The image was transparent and in a multitude of colors, but there was a very minute but visible black streak, like a crack, about half-an-inch in length, embedded near the top of the right side in front. Mandor sighed, looking equal parts concerned and disappointed.  
  
“Alright, what does that mark mean exactly?” Sarah asked a bit nervously.  
  
“It isn’t serious,” Suhuy reassured her. “All-in-all you were very lucky, but it would have been rather strange for you to not have experienced any damage at all. The true Logrus physically assaults both brain and body of all who dare walk it, both a test of mettle and the nature of the beast, as it were. It is not unusual for an initiate to be covered with superficial lacerations by the end of the course. The worse damage possible is mental, however, as is the case with you. Fortunately, the Hand of the Logrus only left a slight mark in the creative section of your brain, not enough to totally hinder your magical capabilities but nevertheless something that I must be careful of in teaching you, an obstacle you must learn to work around. If it were anywhere in the left quadrant or straddling the two, even that much would have to be forgone. Thankfully, this is not the case.” The holographic image vanished and the ring shrank down again; Suhuy stashed it back in his robe. Sarah was on the verge of asking what would have been done with her had she not been capable of magic, but Suhuy interrupted her train of thought.  
  
“Which means that if there are no objections I can commence with your training immediately,” he addressed her. She glanced at Mandor.  
  
“The sooner the better,” he pronounced, standing up. “In fact, I had drafted a rough lesson schedule against your arrival. You are free, of course, to instruct her as you see fit, but she has quite a lot to learn and hopefully we can complete it in one Chaos year; this I also leave up to your discretion.”  
  
“Very well,” Suhuy said, slowly coming to his feet, “let’s see what you have in mind.”  
  
Sarah watched the two men walked away to stand over at the large desk, for all practical purposes planning out her immediate future as if she wasn’t even in the room. She remembered Mandor’s words from earlier, that as her guardian he would be choosing what was right for her. Now she sincerely hoped he’d meant it.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
And so began the tutoring of Sarah Williams of Shadow Earth in the ways of Chaos (I should say ‘in the Ways of Mandor’. Or, rather, ‘in Suhuy’s way’. Or…oh, nevermind.) Her schedule seldom varied. She awoke early each morning to an artificial golden dawn streaming in through the fake window Mandor had installed in her bedroom for this purpose (skylight), got cleaned up and dressed in nice black-and-white attire (in spite of the variety to choose from it felt sort of like a school uniform in under a week), had a sumptuous breakfast in the library with Lord Mandor (he had yet to serve the exact same meal twice), and the rest of the day was largely comprised of intermittent studies with Lord Suhuy and solo research and homework practically until bedtime, with Mandor in attendance for either lunch or dinner - never both (although both were always scrupulously provided by him regardless of the company eating it.) He was known to duck in from time-to-time to make note of her progress and even to help if the occasion warranted, but mostly he was careful to stay out of his uncle’s way.  
  
The huge leap in volume of Sarah’s schoolwork made her feel like she had just dropped out of early high school to pursue a master’s degree in arcane studies, and - among a vast multitude of other things - she had to quickly learn how to pace herself. The work load of the first week had kind of been a shock but it was getting easier to handle as time went on. Under any less demanding circumstances, she would have been rather lonely, but, frankly, she really didn’t have the leisure to worry about it much, at least initially; it was all she could do just to keep up with Suhuy’s speed-teaching. Normal coursework like this took years if not decades, and even with her considerable magical handicap - both as a human and as a Fixed Logrus initiate (as she found out she was) - her tutor was rather skeptical that she would be comfortably proficient in what he could teach her in just a year even if all the subjects could be reasonably glossed over initially in about six-to-seven months’ time to start, and he was cramming himself in the attempt to meet the proposed deadline.  
  
By comparison, Sarah’s Thari had come swiftly and easily, as Mandor had hoped, with the use of the translation device; it had been turned off for three days now and on the whole she seemed to be managing all right without it, only needing the dictionary now and again. She hadn’t spoken a single word of English since the day of her arrival; the one English book in her possession was currently buried under a mound of assorted tomes from the library, all but forgotten.  
  
Her magic, however, was quite a different matter altogether. All shadow-copies of the Logrus, the Fixed Logri, had built-in imperfections and defects - sections which never moved versus the eternally active original - and this expressed itself as glitches and faults in the initiates’ powers, if not their minds. Apparently Lord Suhuy’s definition of ‘not serious’ was closer akin to ‘not fatal’; Sarah’s condition was certainly serious by her way of thinking. She had been wildly lucky that the damaged area Suhuy had seen did not perceptibly affect her day-to-day existence, but once he began instructing her in certain types of magic the error started to rear its ugly head during class. The worst was trying to bring objects through from different shadows using Logrus tentacles, reaching ones arms into them like gloves and using them to extend through the void to retrieve what you wanted or needed. Even when the tentacles didn’t freeze up and it nominally worked, books melted in her hands, clothing caught fire, some small items just exploded like miniature bombs. The action itself relied too heavily on her creative imagination - the break was in the right frontal lobe - and she just couldn’t hold herself together long enough to do it well; the process almost invariably triggered high emotional instability and usually ended in either panic attacks or a half-hour-long crying jag. But not everything was this theatrical. Mostly the results of her efforts were simply inconsistent to the point that for the first two weeks he forced her to keep a log of what worked when under what circumstances so they could see if it was cyclic. But there was no discernable pattern - the outcomes seemed completely governed by chance - and the log was thrown out.  
  
As she was deemed unfit for most of the higher magics and she already showed a natural propensity toward it, she was given extensive training in the trumps - a major accomplishment by Amberite standards but only considered a minor art in the Courts. This would be especially important for her due to the fact that Chaosians technically used Logrus tentacles for basic transportation as well and this was simply out of the question for her. Normally this would entail being taught how to make trump cards as well but Suhuy deemed this too risky also; she might have been able to do it, but any she could create herself carried the danger of the Fixed Logrus and the active possibility of not working properly and dropping her off someplace deadly instead of the intended locale – or literally freezing her in time-space inbetween. In consequence, she worked only with pre-made trumps but became quite adept at them nevertheless, and Suhuy painted one of her in due process for Lord Mandor. On top of limitedly using them for communication and shadow-transport (she was never allowed to travel alone for her own safety), she could tell if one was being used in her vicinity, block or force through calls for herself and others, keep someone from being able to see where she was during a call, listen in undetected, and even use a deck of them to tell her own fortune. The one exception that he promised to teach her later on was the Trump Doorway, which, if properly executed, cannibalized itself for power instead of draining the one who made it and could be used as an inter-dimensional portal for almost an entire day in her case (the ones drawn with the power of the real Logrus could last longer), a fairer way to ensure that the destination was safe if she truly ever had to do this.  
  
Her basic arcane training wasn’t completely a lost cause, however. The very land the Fixed Logrus sat on biased certain abilities in the initiates’ favor, and having run her course through the land of the Labyrinth, this granted Sarah a strong affinity for rock, and it was here that she excelled. The results were breathtaking. The trumps she handled most easily were of rocky deserts with large formations - in fact, it was becoming apparent that her natural affinity had even affected some of Mandor’s capabilities initially upon driving her to Chaos. She could will up mountain ranges straight out of the ground in seconds, rend the earth apart, instantly creating gigantic crevasses so deep she couldn’t see the bottom, induce resonances in a series of crystals that could do everything from creating small amounts of electricity to healing a physical wound - if it had to do with geology, she could do it and do it well. Her lava flows were simply not to be believed. It wasn’t long before she deduced the precise current necessary to trigger a magnetic response from Mandor’s metal spheres, but she was blocked at the last minute from snatching one for inspection one day - the error from the Fixed Logrus had intervened, not her guardian; it had happened almost too fast for him to have been able to stop her! Sarah’s Logrus-sight seemed to be the one annoying exception to the powers that she regularly used with success. Oh, it worked. She could mentally summon the image of her version of the Logrus - the one copy where all the possible variations had been laid out side-by-side practically on top of each other for miles - but rather than being able to see hidden spells or magic on a person, object or place, using it as a looking glass, she only learned their physical mass, mineral composition (if any) and possible conductivity levels, and this she saw as through a thin slice of mica; slightly prismatic but not terribly helpful on the whole usually.  
  
Being human, she could not shift her form, but after some experimentation Suhuy figured out a round-about method that she could safely utilize to temporarily disguise her appearance. To the observer, it would seem that her face - or, indeed, her whole body - became physically encased in rough-cut quartz of about the shape and features she wished to take on, and the lifelike image would slowly fade in over the illusory base-construct one section at a time. The whole process took about ten minutes of intense concentration but it was getting easier and faster with practice. She’d only messed it up once on the second try and Mandor had had to smash her arms free: the ‘quartz’ had become real.  
  
Sarah’s cultural studies were coming along as well; she was quickly realizing that if she ever made it back to Shadow Earth America she would never take her country and its inherent freedoms for granted ever, ever again. Openly secretive and privately paranoid, Chaos had an extremely long, convoluted and very bloody history. The Courts had brutally conquered thousands upon thousands of shadow worlds in their immediate vicinity and subjugated many more in the dim past, taking entire populations for slave labor. Even now, ‘servant immigrants to Chaos’ outnumbered native Chaosians in the Courts proper about thirty-to-one. This number didn’t even take into account the hordes of small demons native to the Pit of the Abyss, the monumental landmark the City was situated at the very edge of, which they forcibly recruited for similar purposes, although, oddly, most of the demons didn’t seem to mind. What Sarah thought was peculiar was that she had never seen another living soul other than her guardian and her tutor so far. Mandor had to have servants - as head of the House of Sawall it would be socially expected of him, if nothing else - but Sarah had to reflect that she was still limited to the two rooms of Mandorways she had started out in and, now that she thought of it, they always seemed a little cleaner whenever she got back from her brief shadow-outings with Suhuy. Perhaps Mandor was not allowing her to mix society with them, which wouldn’t be terribly surprising.  
  
To be blunt, culturally-speaking, native Chaosians on the whole were hopeless snobs, seeing themselves as the apex of evolution of all the worlds, superior to all other beings, complete masters of their own domain, the very collections of shadows they inhabited being deliberately altered to suit their individual tastes and maintained in this state by legions of labor. In spite of this outrageous stance - perhaps because of it - socially they were unfailingly polite almost to the point of being patronizing; it wasn’t your fault you were inferior, it was simply the way things were. Mandor actually wasn’t too bad this way as far as what Sarah had seen firsthand, but, now that she knew what to look for, she could definitely see it at times in Suhuy (who, by-the-way, had point-blank, very politely, refused to allow her to simply address him by his first name, and he was so nice about it she was almost ashamed that she’d even asked. Almost. They were that good.) Her tutor had, however, had begun to show up in his power form and stay that way during her lessons on the days when they were going to go out into Shadow, which was more than a little distracting at first but she couldn’t really fault him the decision; the Logrus seemed to shoulder the infirmity of his old age - he was much more able-bodied this way than in his humanoid form. It still made her a little nervous almost instinctively even though she knew perfectly well that it was him underneath, and to try to assuage her natural fear Suhuy showed up with the genuine article in tow one day, almost like a bizarre show-and-tell: a green-and-silver creature with bat wings and a somewhat comparable face but with fierce-looking fangs and claws, standing just about four-and-three-quarters-feet tall. His name was Gryll and apparently he had been in service with the House of Sawall for over six generations now, which really meant something with these people’s momentous lifespans; he was surprisingly intelligent and pleasant company, and was happy to show off some of his own small magics for Sarah’s benefit. This was still going to be an immense paradigm shift, but it seemed that even here - perhaps especially here - one was judged by one’s actions and not immediately by one’s genus.  
  
The other thing that was changing, albeit more slowly, was the library. Finally aware of the beautiful illusion she had been obliviously living in for the past two months, it was fascinating watching the large room gradually morph back into its original form (‘natural’ was too strong of a word): black and deep jewel tones replaced the sunny faux-baroque theme (although the ceiling diorama was meticulously retained intact), smooth undulating line predominated in the furnishings, some of the furniture now looking nearly modernist. The smaller tables had commenced floating last week but at least they were still largely stationary, although Sarah had a brush with a little circular one near the fireplace that made her seriously wonder if they were at least partially sentient if not intuitive; she had been about to get up to get herself a drink and when she turned around the little table was right there with a filled glass on it! Speaking of floating, the mystery of the inconveniently-located staircase had been solved also: the risers could literally float independently of each other, and, if one was careful, they could easily be called over to carry a rider to whatever portion of the library the person desired to see. The stairs were rarely - if ever - used in their normal configuration. It was actually kind of fun, but Sarah was still working on getting the hang of it. In general the room felt less like a palace library and more like the sorcerer’s private study that it was. Her apartments were being left alone for the time being, the Order-friendly schematic being deemed more calming and a healthy respite for her mind. Sarah could have argued the point - the constant comparison was definitely more jarring mentally than just being immersed to adapt - but she had learned long ago that both Chaos lords thought that, in matters of their own expertise, they were right no matter what, and that such an exercise was pointless.  
  
Although there were times late at night that she had to begrudgingly admit that they may have had a point, but the issue at hand was private and rather sore by now: the dark dreams had not abated. She seemed to have less of them gradually as time went on, but the ones she still had were becoming increasingly varied with her growing knowledge. The Logrus was simply a part of her now; she had accepted this. It almost seemed as if the Logrus itself was taking greater issue with the situation, incapable of assimilating Sarah’s inborn, immutable sense of Order, and was periodically just trying to psychologically squash it. The really terrible thing was she couldn’t tell anybody, although she had a sneaking suspicion that for all her efforts to conceal the distress (she had gotten rather skilled in this out of necessity) Mandor knew anyway; he kept making vague allusions in their private conversations that she could use to easily segue into the topic and discuss it if she so chose. To his blank amazement (and private consternation) she never did.  
  
In all other matters, however, she held no secrets from him. In spite of his outside social requirements, Mandor was generous with his time and his company, sometimes helping her with her homework until odd hours. He seemed to have taken the idea of guardianship to heart, for he always seemed to be there right when she needed him, but his presence was never stifling. He was just there, always ready with a word of praise or encouragement or practical assistance, always ready with a listening ear or a crying shoulder if necessary, always pushing her to try just a little harder, be a little better. And she wanted to be - for his sake as much as for her own. She wanted to impress him, make him proud of her. It felt very strange, but Sarah slowly realized that she was beginning to perceive Lord Mandor Sawall almost like a surrogate father-figure. What was really wild about it was that it wasn’t truly overt but he owned it all the same. Sarah’s biological father on the other hand…she sighed.  
  
Robert Williams really was a decent man at heart but he was also a weak-willed one; he seemed much more at ease with a strong woman around to run the show. It had been all right when her mom had been home. Sure, life had been crazy at times but it was a good sort of crazy, with late nights in the city and her mother’s friends from the theater dropping by at all times, sometimes even playing with little Sarah: painting her up in stage makeup or doing her hair just for fun, acting out scenes with her, dropping off bits of costumes that weren’t needed anymore for her toy box. As long as the company was quiet enough to let their daughter sleep at night, Robert hadn’t objected to any of it; he only wanted his wife to be happy. In fact, the only thing he ever openly objected to was Linda’s affair, and that had taken some nerve on his part. After her mom left, he had just seemed lost but it wasn’t only the grief. He didn’t understand what to do with Sarah at all, and the house just went to pot. He remarried a little too quickly by his daughter’s reckoning, to the first woman he met who could lead him about by the nose. Karen was decisive and efficient and had quickly put his life to rights, but she was neurotypical with a capital ‘N’, and extremely narrow-minded at that, and couldn’t stand creative/artsy types…like her new stepdaughter. Her level of parenting extended to about the depth of,  
  
“You need to stop daydreaming your life away and figure out where you want to go to college so you can start writing for scholarships while there’s still time, and for pity’s sake, change into some regular street clothes!”  
  
Sadly, the oddball Chaos lord she was currently residing with was better at real, ‘hands-on’ parenting than all three of Sarah’s parents put together. He had retained a little of his old formality around her but it didn’t strike her as personal distance anymore; she suspected that ultimately it was just a byproduct of his own upbringing.  
  
There was one topic of discussion that she noted was never brought up at all, although it certainly wasn’t forbidden: the official religion of Chaos, the Church of the Serpent. As a major part of their history and culture, she’d had to learn about it. As powerful as the Roman Catholic Church in medieval Europe, everyone living in the Courts of Chaos was automatically a member, although levels of involvement varied considerably. The priests were forbidden to hold any public office, but their influence over the millennia was well-documented and, for all practical purposes, the Church was very quietly above the law. One certainly didn’t slight ‘the Great Serpent on the Tree of Matter’ in public and you might think twice about doing it in private. Sarah had read some of the texts and knew their basic tenets of faith but she wasn’t ready to buy it; perhaps she was biased by her Order background but it seemed to her that the doctrine was more than a little revisionist on several points. Suhuy had merely presented the information at an academic level, no more, and her host was not a terribly pious man (at least not demonstratively), the upshot being that the subject was never really pushed, which was, of course, fine.  
  
If the old axiom about a human being able to unlearn a chosen behavior in three months’ time was true, then Sarah Williams was well on her way to breaking herself of nearly her entire life prior to coming to Chaos; so much of it felt like a dream or someone else’s life, and in a way it was. Her courtly manner was starting to feel natural as was the clothing and the small magics she could do on a regular basis; the formality no longer bothered her. Close to the three-month mark, Mandor finally relented and switched her rooms back to the way they really were. The water that came out of the taps shot in any direction she darn well pleased and the small bench from her vanity practically became a simple personal assistant. She was allowed more control in trump traveling, choosing destinations herself from the assembled deck, even to the point of limited shadow-walking, but still always accompanied and never anywhere populated (she was told it would be too dangerous this close to Chaos.)  
  
This was the one nagging oddity about her tenure that she couldn’t ever get a straight answer about. Even with the little time in which she was actually left alone, the isolation was beginning to get to her. She began toying with the furniture in the library when nobody else was there, getting different pieces to fly around and act silly together for her own amusement. It was no secret that she was dying for varied company and, at length, Mandor personally inquired what Suhuy’s continued objection was for; surely they could find or make a close shadow with comparable people for her to interact with.  
  
Lord Suhuy had simply sighed and said, “You’d better take a seat.”  
  
The two men were in Mandor’s sea-bottom receiving room for privacy’s sake. An immense deep-sea gulper shot by the window just outside, doing what it did best.  
  
“She’s right, of course,” Suhuy continued, pouring himself a drink. “If circumstances were any different I would have had you take her disguised into society weeks ago - she would certainly be capable of handling herself - but it appears that our little human experiment has a built-in detonator button.”  
  
Mandor looked up from his glass. “Don’t even joke about something like that.”  
  
“I am afraid this is quite serious, nephew. She has the energetic potential to become a very powerful weapon due to her particular set of Logrus-generated flaws in conjunction with her natural physiognomy. All it would take is the correct application of Logrus tendrils and a little personal boost. I know you find this kind of work unsavory but you must be made aware of the possibility.”  
  
“And when had you really been planning on telling me about this, Uncle?”  
  
“I only became certain myself within the last couple of days; I have been running a series of very discreet tests on her without her knowledge for the better part of a month now. I did not wish to speak prematurely and be proven incorrect. If you want to protect her, we must continue to keep her very existence a secret and pray that the Serpent does not see fit to use such a weak instrument in this manner.”  
  
Mandor nodded gravely. “Then I must come up with an apt distraction for her; the child must be going spare in there in our absence. The other day I walked in unexpected and found her flying about the room ceiling-level at top speed on a riser from the staircase, balanced standing up!”  
  
Suhuy just laughed, seating himself in one of the plush black leather chairs. “I believe humans call that sport ‘boarding’ - obvious - but there is usually an added prefix defining what surface is being ridden over, if not part of the device. Air-or-Skyboarding in this case, probably. Remember her youth, Mandor,” he admonished, “a real sport might peak her interest. Fencing, perhaps?”  
  
“You may be right,” Mandor conceded, finishing his glass and setting it down on a drifting table, getting up. “I’ll speak to her about the possibility; I’m due back anyway.”  
  
Mandor casually crossed the familiar grouped-aberration of space and time that he called home, making his way to the library. It had taken a while for him to adjust to the idea of there being a physical door in his house but now he automatically grasped the still-amazingly-solid handle. He would have to congratulate his Shadowmaster the next time he saw the man. Mandor reflected upon opening the door that he did not have to be physically near Sarah in order to feel her restlessness; it was plain enough in the fact that he always had to search for her when he came in after hours. But he was not expecting what met his eyes as he stepped into the room: his heart almost stopped when the large stuffed desk chair swiveled around and Dara Sawall was in it! His stepmother sported short, dark brown hair and was wearing one of her signature tunic-and-trousers outfits, red and black this time - classic. The woman was known to only wear skirts on special occasions, finding them too unwieldy for her regular mover-shaker-and-conniver lifestyle. Even a planned visit from his father’s second wife was not without a certain element of inherent danger. If she had run into Sarah…  
  
“Dara! I did not anticipate seeing you here and unannounced! Have you been waiting long?”  
  
To complete his bewilderment, the lady burst into laughter, applauding him.  
  
“You should’ve seen your face!”  
  
And then he recognized the voice.  
  
“Sarah, that wasn’t funny in the least.”  
  
She was still laughing though, the false features, body and clothes melting away until she was just herself once more. Mandor looked none too pleased.  
  
“Oh, come on, I’ve been waiting all day to spring that on you! Aren’t you even just a little impressed I could pull it off?”  
  
He simply vanished. She sighed.  
  
“I’m sorry, all right? I didn’t mean to make you angry. Please come back!”  
  
Silence. She must’ve really hit a nerve there; he’d never done it like that before. It was pointless trying to locate him with her incomplete Logrus-sight; if he didn’t want to be found, she couldn’t possibly find him. She stood up anyway, pacing away from the desk.  
  
“Mandor?”  
  
“There are rules about these things for a reason, precious,” came the crisp British-accented-English right in her ear! She gave a scream of surprise, just about jumping out of her boots, instantly turning, only half-believing until she saw…  
  
The Goblin King was standing there in all his foreboding glory - cape, armor and all - and looking supremely pissed…but the dark expression melted into an oddly familiar, fond smirk.  
  
“Mandor,” she exhaled, catching her breath as her hammering heart began to slow back down.  
  
“It isn’t as amusing when the shoe is on the other foot, is it?” he answered in his own voice and language, making the apparition even more bizarre. “You’re lucky you only tried that with me; Lord Suhuy would have found a way to make you do penance. I trust we’ve learned our lesson,” he said sternly, beginning to change back.  
  
“Wait! Stop!”  
  
He looked up, surprised. “What’s the matter?”  
  
“I just…you don’t have him right.”  
  
Mandor relaxed, amused. “Very well. What’s amiss, then?”  
  
Sarah stifled a smile. “He’s shorter than that.”  
  
“That is true; I’d nearly forgotten.” The fake Jareth dropped four inches in height. “What else?”  
  
Sarah stopped and thought a moment, trying to place it. “You’ve made him too young.”  
  
Mandor nodded. “It has been a long time since I had any dealings with him. I do not know what he currently looks like but I can age the features generally.”  
  
Sarah watched, astounded, as the terrible passage of time rapidly worked on the strangely handsome face, the nose growing longer, the skin losing elasticity.  
  
“That’s too much! Take it back a bit, he only looks like he’s in his early-to-mid forties.”  
  
“In human years, you mean. Just the beginning of age, then.” The biological clock seemed to run backwards until his hair turned light-blonde again and there were only slight wrinkles at the edges of the eyes and a stray line or two in the forehead.  
  
“Right there - stop!”  
  
Jareth’s ghost stood before her, lightly smiling; he took a quick, flourished mock bow. It made her feel strange, seeing such a gentle emotion on that face; she wondered if the real man was even capable of that and couldn’t resist walking a circuit around him.  
  
“Is it really that much of an improvement, Sarah?” Mandor teased.  
  
“No,” she laughed, flustered, “it’s just that before…I…”  
  
Mandor intercepted her train of thought. “You didn’t have the leisure to actually get a good look at him while you were there. A chance to study your opponent in a sense.”  
  
Sarah nodded, coming back to the front. “It’s just trippy seeing even this much of him again, that’s all. I never expected to.”  
  
“Show’s over,” Mandor said quietly. Sarah was almost disappointed to see the alienly attractive features morph back into a face that she had been looking at day in and day out for months on end. He went and sat down at the desk.  
  
“Did you talk to Lord Suhuy about my going out? Surely you must concede I am ready by now!”  
  
“He is still refusing for the moment.”  
  
Sarah gave a frustrated huff. “But why? There must be a reason which he refuses to tell me! Do you know?”  
  
“It’s nothing you can help,” he replied a bit sadly. “Don’t fret over it; I’ll fabricate a retreat for you on my own, without his knowledge. In the meantime, how would you feel about learning to fence from me?”  
  
The question took Sarah by surprise. “I think I’d like that, actually, but do you think there’s really enough floor-space in here?”  
  
“Hardly; we’d be in the gymnasium, of course.” Mandor saw her eyes light up at the prospect and knew he’d have to have his Shadowmaster back over to attach the room to the library and free up more of his schedule accordingly. “If you desire physical exercise I am more than willing to provide it, especially if doing so means that you’ll stop risking your neck riding the staircase about,” he gave a frowning smirk.  
  
“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it!” she laughed.  
  
He shook his head, still smiling. “Such behavior is not dignified for a man of my age.”  
  
“It wouldn’t hurt you to loosen up a little every now and again. Who’s even here to object?”  
  
“You hold a valid point. Perhaps you can show me how it’s done after you’ve finished your homework, but you must promise to stay closer to the floor in the future.”  
  
She brought over a chair as she often did on nights like this, along with her books and study materials, and they both worked on opposite sides of the desk (it was large enough), him sometimes glancing over and giving her pointers, her sometimes asking him about his outside life - the nobles he’d been visiting, the minor political matters he was negotiating at the time, the other shadows in his holdings; he always obliged her with colorful, interesting stories as long as she kept working. But tonight her thoughts were elsewhere as she completed her history and metascience exercises and he seemed not to notice her relative silence. She was remembering the Labyrinth and the friends she had made on that crazy, dangerous shadow.  
  
She wanted to go back.


	6. New Doors (and a brief 'Disney Moment')

Chapter 6 – New Doors (and a brief ‘Disney Moment’)  
  
Even in spite of the fact that there were no immediate changes to Sarah’s life as she currently had come to experience it, much of the next few days were colored with the excitement of intense anticipation. Lord Mandor wasn’t about to force his Shadowmaster to do a rush job and Sarah couldn’t really blame him – the work being done was to guarantee her physical safety. The man apparently quoted him five Chaos days to finish the project - which really meant anywhere between three and six via the ‘sun’- but it wasn’t an unreasonable wait. Suhuy began to allow her to take longer shadow-outings, even bivouacking overnight once next to a verdant gorge that made the Grand Canyon look like a crack in the sidewalk by comparison. He was teaching her how to forage for food on alien worlds, how to tell poison from nutrient in plants and nuts she had never seen before. Sarah had a sneaking suspicion that she was being kept out of the way during the final retrofitting of the Way into the library and was proven correct upon her return: there was a second heavy wooden door on the near-side of the room, just a few feet to the left of the original one that more naturally led out to the rest of the house; knowing that these portals were mostly decorative, she still had to wonder if they acted as airlocks besides, all-considering. Her pulse hammered in her throat as she jogged over from the center of the room where she had trumped in and turned the polished handle; she had been directed to go straight in, where Mandor would be waiting to give her her first fencing lesson (and she was wearing pants for the occasion.) Opening the new door and quickly stepping through (as she was accustomed to do by now), Sarah immediately registered that this room was in a very different dimension, although how she knew this so instinctively eluded her. Something felt off…  
  
However it felt, the room was beautiful in its relative simplicity. The ceiling was a bit shorter and the space was smaller than the library but there appeared to be plenty of open floor space beyond the entryway, which was rather like a short hall. Outlandish suits of armor and even more outlandish weapons were displayed in locked glass cases along the left wall, pieces and (no doubt) history to be reflected upon as one came in. Mandor was doing just this, his hands clasped behind his back; upon hearing the door close he glanced over.  
  
“Ah, Sarah! You made it back in one piece, I see. Lord Suhuy managed not to poison you?” he quipped, pacing over to join her.  
  
“There were a couple of times I seriously questioned his judgment but I survived,” she laughed. Her guardian had probably been forced to take one of these trips himself back-in-the-day, she mused. Some of what was technically edible out there …she quickly turned her thoughts from it, feeling mildly nauseous at the memory.  
  
“I would have accompanied you myself but ‘roughing it’ magically unaided has never been my cup of tea and my presence was required here for the final adjustments of the Way.”  
  
She was right on both counts. “I suspected as much,” Sarah gave a wry smile. “You know you can just tell me that you need me out of the way for a small amount of time at this point; it’s okay.”  
  
“I am not deliberately attempting to treat you as a child but the direct request has always felt rather rude to me under your particularly limited set of circumstances. I prefer to make your times away into short vacations. Although since you brought it up, I might as well inform you that my Shadowmaster found quite a number of weak points in the outer walls of the library and your apartments while he was here and had to strengthen them once more. Apparently enforced staticity is unnatural enough here that it can be difficult to artificially uphold and he will have to begin to come back for regular maintenance work at least once a month, and we will have to find places for you to go overnight while he is here. This is acceptable?”  
  
“Of course. Surely the Ways of Sawall are large enough to have just one protected inner room I can occupy for a night?” she coolly ventured as if the request couldn’t mean less to her, carefully testing the waters.  
  
Mandor’s snowy eyebrows raised ever-so-slightly at her relatively bold, well-stated request. He had to concede that she was certainly beginning to think like a Chaosian. “Perhaps,” he gave a single foot of ground both figuratively and literally, “we’ll see. Let’s see how you do in here,” he smoothly changed the topic; the tactic did not go unnoticed but at least he seemed to have listened. “Have you noticed anything physically different just standing where we are right now?”  
  
Sarah furrowed her brow in thought a moment. “I could tell right away that there’s extra pressure in here but it’s a little hard to describe.”  
  
“Try to lift your arms to shoulder-level,” he invited her, “feel that extra pull?”  
  
Sarah lifted them both in front of her; the increased resistance was rather obvious now, palpable. “Oh, yeah.”  
  
“The shadow planet that this room resides on has stronger gravity than you are accustomed to, approximately 1.5 g’s. I deliberately built my gymnasium here to add basic resistance strength training to all activities performed, but I should warn you that if you do not give yourself time to acclimate to this it can wear you out very quickly; our session today will be relatively short. In time, you should be able to tolerate up to two linear hours per day in this chamber but no longer; your more delicate vertebrae would begin to compact slightly. Free access to this room comes with a certain level of personal responsibility, understood?”  
  
She nodded affirmative.  
  
“Good.” He began to leisurely pace toward the open section of the chamber, giving Sarah a little time to view the cases and their contents as they went. What met her eyes was an immense collection both chillingly sinister in its implied near-medieval brutality and astounding in its display of native creativity and high level craftsmanship. And not all of that armor was made for a human form – a couple of the suits were gigantic, bestial affairs; it was difficult to even imagine the creatures that wore them.  
  
“How did you come by all this?” she asked distractedly, shaking her head at a spear with about sixteen needle-sharp projectiles with hooks and a magical fetish attached.  
  
“Most of these are very old, dating back to the ages of the initial conquest of the Black Zone surrounding Chaos proper; just family heirlooms at this point. Although a couple are more recent acquisitions,” he noted casually as she passed a pristine two-handed sword with delicate organic-design filigree laid into the handle, the blade nearly shining with its own inner light. “This one on the end, however, has always been a particular favorite of mine,” he motioned her over – then pulled her away from the case, giving whatever was inside a wide berth, stopping just opposite on the right side of the wall.  
  
Inside a stand-alone single case on the edge of the hall was a very dingy, dirty-looking, rusted-out incomplete suit of armor: just a breastplate, one shoulder and forearm guard, and what appeared to be guards for the base of a pair of wings. It was relatively small compared to the rest of the collection, clearly made for a demon; Gryll could’ve fit into it comfortably. Mandor smiled.  
  
“Those seemingly battered remnants of ancient metal came from my ancestor’s first demon-servant retrieved from the Abyss of Chaos. Such stories grow twisted and muddied in their repeated telling so there’s really no point in relating what is left of a braggart’s tall tale. Suffice to say that the subduing of the creature was unprecedentedly difficult, but once captured he served him well. No one has ever been able to determine precisely what this remaining armor is made of – it carries none but the most rudimentary of protection spells and yet…observe.” Mandor walked slowly toward the mounted suit and reached out his right hand…  
  
Sarah gasped, wide-eyed, as the entire thing suddenly sprouted six-inch spikes like daggers from all the pieces! Something vile and black was dripping from the points into the bottom of the case; looking a bit more closely, she could see it was fairly stained down there already. He slowly took a couple big steps back and the armor was decrepit, simple and tarnished once more with absolutely no sign at all of what it had just transformed into mere seconds ago!  
  
“I believe it is forged of some kind of half-sentient substance thrown upwards out of the Abyss itself, but I have no way of testing this theory; no samples have been recovered since. It literally adapts to each perceived ‘opponent’ in a unique way. Probably close to a hundred people have tested it thus and it consistently reacts differently toward each individual, as if it can somehow sense a person’s vulnerabilities. Would you care to give it a try? It’s perfectly safe – the case is physically strong and heavily warded against magic both inside and out.”  
  
Sarah eyed the thing. It was just a suit of armor. A weird, almost alienly alive suit of armor but still… She bravely took a couple steps forward, then a third, feeling the odd incongruity of a playground dare, and slowly reached out her hand…  
  
The entire thing instantly grew huge fast-wriggling tarantula legs and dozens of black eyeballs! Sarah screamed bloody murder and instinctively leapt into Mandor’s arms away from the outrageous monstrosity, spontaneously triggering hardy laughter in her guardian as he held her!  
  
“I’ve never seen it do something like that before,” he said at length once he’d recovered himself somewhat. “You have to admit it was very effective, though. Are you all right?” he looked down at her, still smiling broadly.  
  
Sarah’s cheeks were aflame with embarrassment. She had just fallen for one of the oldest defensive tactics in the book: an enemy you can scare away you don’t have to fight. She stole a surreptitious glance back – it was just a bunch of roughly hammered metal so full of rust it had no right to still be intact. Mandor stepped gracefully out of the automatic, awkward embrace; the smile only lingered in his eyes.  
  
“Fortunately for you, we are actually here for far more mundane purposes. Come along; watch your step,” he cautioned as they walked up onto a raised hardwood floor and into the gymnasium proper. Now that they were fully inside, Sarah could see what appeared to be a row of large floor-to-ceiling cathedral-pointed windows with thick deep-blue velvet curtains over them all along the right wall. She was both wildly curious and somewhat apprehensive of the view they hid; she had yet to be shown what was right outside of where they were. The near and left walls were covered with more weapons cases, but the contents of these looked newer and much more serviceable than the relics in the hall. Toward the back of the room was what Sarah surmised was a collection of exercise equipment, ranging from a more standard stationary pedaling device and a rudimentary treadmill that nominally appeared functional (it was connected to a manual grinding machine) to pieces that would have looked more at home in a dungeon torture chamber.  
  
Seemingly unaware of her appraisal of the place, Mandor got out his set of keys and unlocked one of the cases, extracting half-a-dozen blunted practice foils, attempting to determine which grip would best fit Sarah’s hand, setting aside one for himself almost immediately.  
  
Sarah had been initially surprised when she had learned that for as ‘advanced’ as this society was in many respects (certainly not socially-speaking, but as far as basic living in the upper echelons was concerned), no one ever used so much as a shotgun for any reason at all. While some could construe this fact, viewed by itself, as another form of ‘advancement’, the reality of the situation was far less idealistic. The truth was that the necessary incendiary substances were so volatile that they never survived so much as four shadow-crossings without being chemically altered to the point that they were inert and none were native to Chaos. In fact, they only burned with any sort of predictable success within the first quarter of shadow closest to Amber, and even there the travel-induced changes could be fairly extreme. Amberites had only recently discovered and used such armaments against Chaos in one of the first clashes of the Patternfall War, staged just outside the city itself. While the basic theoretical knowledge had existed there for quite some time as well, the discovery of the correct compound for the One True World (as Amberites had dubbed their home) had been completely by accident; the report the Courts eventually got back from their agents related an almost humorous incident in which a Prince carelessly threw a used polishing cloth on the grate and immediately had to hit the deck to avoid the ensuing fireball! Attempts to confiscate samples of the polishing powder proved too difficult (it was guarded too well, both in Amber and the other nearby shadows – including Shadow Earth – where it was manufactured and stored) and chemically reconstructing it elsewhere was an exercise in futility. While there were still a handful of bitter, minor Chaosian nobles tinkering in the basement, so-to-speak, the society as a whole had quickly dismissed the idea as simply not worth the trouble as long as the crossbow still worked.  
  
The enigma of the drapes and what lay behind them tugged again at Sarah’s train of thought. Did she dare? She had been shown countless fantastical landscapes by now and had learned to take the wild variances largely in the stride, although there were still certain views that could take her breath away. Reality – or what passed for it – was far grander and varied than she could have ever possibly imagined. And yet she had never been allowed to see a single landscape in true Chaos or the shadows directly next to it, which made the current prospect just a little unnerving. But she had to ask.  
  
“Is it alright if I look out the window quick? Or is that what those really are?” The sudden morbid thought of gigantic frozen opponents to go with the trophy cases had just occurred to her – the practice, while usually private, was not unheard of, according to her studies. Mandor looked up and caught her longing gaze toward the curtains.  
  
“I only had them drawn so the view would not distract you during practice, but you are welcome to look for the moment if you wish; there is no chance of the windows coming open, either,” he said. Making a lifting gesture with his right hand, the curtain of the center pane began to slowly rise like a Venetian blind.  
  
The theme from ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’ started playing almost on cue in Sarah’s mind as she took a deep breath and paced to the opposite side of the room to meet that great unknown. The color was the first thing that struck her: it was blue out there, so beautifully, perfectly cerulean blue it looked sterile, artificial. And cold – a flurry of electric-blue snowflakes flew past right on the other side of the glass, which was remarkably thick, maybe five or six inches deep. Sarah rested her right hand on the window without thinking, absorbed in the sight of mountainous cobalt glaciers and slowly drifting dunes of methane snow, and gave an immediate cry of surprised pain, reflexively pulling away: the glass was outrageously cold!  
  
“I’m sorry, I should have verbally warned you!” Mandor apologized upon hearing her as Sarah furiously tried to rub warmth back into her half-frozen fingertips. “Those windows are made of a specialized compound guaranteed to withstand any catastrophe this side of a direct Logrus attack and I still can’t get them insulated properly. Come here.”  
  
In spite of her aching hand, Sarah couldn’t help but glance back with regret as the thick curtain slid closed again like an enormous eyelid as she made her way back over to him. It could’ve been worse, Mandor mused, looking it over; her body had responded quickly enough that there was no true frostbite, just redness, and that was slowly going away on its own. Nevertheless…  
  
Sarah watched as he extracted a metal sphere from his lower coat pocket, and, after one slight adjustment, held it an inch away from her fingertips for a moment, then clicked it off and put it away. A split-second later her fingers were spontaneously warm again, the circulation completely returned.  
  
“We can’t have your sword hand numb already,” he casually remarked, “although you will not be using it much today beyond learning the proper grip and a few basic stances. I believe this one should be the right size,” he said, offering her a foil. “From the next lesson on you will be suiting up and I know the foil is blunted but don’t point it at either of us for the moment; they can still break accidentally and become sharp.”  
  
Removing his eternally-black dress jacket and hanging it up on a peg on the wall, Mandor proceeded to show her the proper finger grip and positioning of the wrist, the basic en garde stance, how to move her feet, advancing, retreating, executing a lunge while maintaining correct posture. He demonstrated the movements alongside, not facing her, often stopping to directly correct her positioning. Mundane, indeed - mundane nearly to the point of being a little boring, actually. This was obviously basic necessary beginner stuff, but it was not at all what she had envisioned this activity being like. There was nothing comfortable or natural-feeling about the wrist positions and Sarah had never used her inner thigh muscles so much in her life; both they and her hand were beginning to feel rather sore before long. Mandor caught her sense of dejected impatience.  
  
“This ability doesn’t occur magically overnight, Sarah; it takes time,” he gently admonished her. “You can hardly expect me to be fool enough to let you start whacking away with trisp and fandon at the outset.”  
  
“A what?”  
  
”The ceremonial dueling weapons of the Chaosian upper-class.” Mandor considered for a moment then relented with a small, fondly indulgent lip-smile. “I can briefly demonstrate for you but you must stay back. Promise?”  
  
Sarah nodded eagerly.  
  
“Then go fetch the practice dummy,” he motioned to a six-foot stuffed black mannequin figure on wheels over by the archaic exercise equipment. As she retrieved it and carefully rolled it back over – it was far heavier than it looked but not terribly difficult to move once it got going under its own momentum – Mandor had opened another case and extracted what looked like a quantity of weighted mesh of some kind and two odd bladeless hilts with orthopedic-style finger supports inside. Making the dummy stable, he stretched out the left arm and carefully draped some of the mesh over it, securing it at the wrist and elbow, then strapping another one to his own left forearm similarly. “In spite of its appearance, the trisp is a very ancient weapon, and dangerous enough that a shield – the fandon – is actually required to deflect most of the blows. Rather than more civilized back-and-forth dueling, it is used for fighting in-the-round, what you might recognize as a more gladiatorial-style on Shadow Earth. Now, I need you to take ten large paces back and stay there,” he motioned her away with his free arm.  
  
Sarah quickly retreated as she was bid, having no idea what was about to happen and a little nervously excited at the prospect. Seeing that she was a safe distance and standing at attention, Mandor activated the first blade: fiery golden light shot out of the hilt to the length of a normal saber! Sarah lightly gasped, then gawked in disbelief.  
  
“Lightsabers?! You actually use lightsabers out here?”  
  
He looked up at her, surprised.  
  
“You have actually seen these before?”  
  
“Only in visually recorded theater on Earth,” she laughed, shaking her head in astonishment. The thing made Darth Vader’s ‘weapon’ look like a medieval broadsword by comparison. The shining, wavering ‘blade’ of Mandor’s trisp was thin, a true saber.  
  
“It might be difficult for you to see from over there but the blade is actually composed of three hair-fine filaments. When discharged, they are razor-sharp but only capable of very superficial damage – one cannot stab with these things – hence the main targets are an opponent’s surface veins and arteries in a real duel. Also – observe.” Turning his sword hand so that she could see his finger clearly, Mandor pressed down on a lever that looked rather like the trigger of a gun – and a blaze of liquid golden light erupted through the body of the blade, temporarily extending its length by about half-a-foot! “Hence why you’re well out of range,” he noted dryly. To complete her surprise, he activated the other trisp handle and fitted it into the dummy’s right hand. Taking one of his spheres, he set it in motion rolling in orbit around the base of the figure on the floor.  
  
And the dummy swung for him! Mandor easily dodged the blow but, strange as it looked, they were circling each other now. Mandor lunged for a cut to the dummy’s sword arm and was parried in a dazzling golden explosion that seemed to flake apart and drift away into nothingness far overhead. The dummy attempted a direct attack that Mandor deflected with the fandon; more gold went flying. The air crackled and hissed at every terrible swing of their blades. In spite of its limited mobility, the dummy parried surprisingly well with both instruments, but Sarah also got the feeling that Mandor was taking this relatively slow for her benefit so she could better see what he was doing. Her suspicions were confirmed when he came up against the automaton fast and hard and, after a complex feint, actually scored a touch on the throat. The dummy simply saluted him and remained stock-still; Mandor retrieved the orb, catching his breath, and deactivated the trisps.  
  
“He’s far better than his featureless face and limbs would suggest once animated, but you will only be bouting with me and practicing with him stationary. His form is excellent but sometimes it’s hard to get him to give quarter, almost as if he gets propelled by his own momentum after a while. But, for now, we start with correct hand technique and ‘crabbing’ about the floor to adequately build up your muscles first,” he said, putting the lethal equipment away as well as his practice foil. “Come bring me your foil and I’ll show you how to stretch.”  
  
By the time they were finished, Sarah was a little less sore but physically fatigued nonetheless. Even in its beginning stages this was a surprisingly aerobic workout and the added gravity made it an even greater challenge. Upon exiting the room and re-entering the library, Sarah had the distinct feeling of walking headfirst into a body of water it was so much easier to move in here. She stretched her back almost without thinking and suddenly understood Mandor’s warning about the extra force; even in just the half-hour they’d been in there today her spine already felt a little stiff. Mandor had pulled a water carafe and two glasses out of nowhere – such an act seemed normal now – and filled the glasses, handing one to Sarah; she nodded thanks and downed it heartily, throwing herself into one of the small padded chairs nearby. Mandor sat down at the desk and got out a fresh piece of paper and a fountain pen.  
  
“Have you given any further thought as to what physical characteristics you would like your retreat shadow to have?”  
  
“Not at all,” Sarah responded, not prepared for the question. “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”  
  
“Well, I’m not about to go to the trouble of creating a world for you just to have you turn around and hate it,” he good-naturedly rejoindered. “I’m presuming temperate with a healthy atmosphere, which places us out a fair distance from Chaos proper but not any further that you’re used to trumping out to by now. Granted the possibilities are somewhat curtailed by the changeable nature of where we are; I cannot reproduce perfect Order for you, but there is a considerable level of scenic variance in the Chaos-generated shadows which we can splice together and mutate easily enough to suit your own taste, and you’ve seen a fair number of them by now. What else would you like?”  
  
Sarah had known that this project was theoretically in the works but being faced with the idea of cutting-and-pasting the stuff of shadow a la carte to make her own private dimension was overwhelming. Where to even begin? She thought a moment.  
  
“Plant life,” she said finally. “Varied. Non-toxic.”  
  
Mandor nodded, making a note. “Do you want it to be sentient?”  
  
The thought was wild but, really, she should’ve known to expect it at this point. It was an interesting prospect, but…  
  
“Maybe something larger like trees, but nothing small.”  
  
“No grass dreading being trodden on – check,” he smirked. “Any desired physical landmarks? Hills, gorges, flat plain? I fear a sea is out of the question; there aren’t any out this far that are liquid water.”  
  
“Some hills would be okay. Not too humid,” she suddenly thought to add.  
  
“Friendly fauna or peaceful tranquility? I suspect you might choose the former; you have had more than your share of quiet and alone time here.”  
  
Sarah nodded. “Yeah, bring on the little friendly things; we can totally do it up like an alien version of a Disney fairytale,” she laughed. Then remembered that he wouldn’t get the reference at all and almost sighed. It had been a long time since she’d thought of that. He caught her brief wistful expression.  
  
“I think I get the general idea,” he smiled. “Any coloring preferences?”  
  
“Nothing that’s going to make me nauseous or dizzy if I look at it for too long.”  
  
“Not too garish,” he fluidly scribbled. “Anything else that I’ve overlooked?”  
  
Sarah met his eyes. “People?”  
  
He sighed in regret; he knew she was lonely for other company but the risks were high in providing it even this way. The Chaosian shadows were patrolled fairly well; just this much was a game of chance but one that had to be enacted to ensure her satiety and further cooperation.  
  
“You know I can’t make a promise like that, Sarah, but I’ll try to work on that particular angle. Do I have your permission to embellish it further along the basic lines that you have established?”  
  
“Of course,” she immediately conceded. “You have a much better idea of what you’re doing with this than I would,” she laughed.  
  
He gave a small lip smile which, she had learned over time, meant that he was pleased with her acknowledgement of his greater mastery of whatever the topic was, bowing out to his vast experience. It struck her as just a smidgeon vain but she could understand it all the same. In a sense it even served to reinforce the idea of his guardianship, that she needed that knowledge, protection, and experience working for her in a very literal manner, and he seemed only too happy to provide it as long as she overtly remembered that he was in charge of this operation. Not Suhuy, mind you. Him. The more she thought about it later after her final lessons that day, the more she realized that there almost seemed to be a very quiet, private rivalry gradually growing between the two Chaosian lords – albeit nothing as blatant as that initial near-blinding of the old man. Just little things, like Mandor’s inclusion of creatures in Sarah’s shadow-to-be that Suhuy would never approve of it he caught wind of the plan. Like Suhuy periodically giving her days off from her homework, now that she was ‘further along’, even letting her pick a handful of completely unnecessary extracurricular subjects to be studied behind Mandor’s back; he had yet to truly notice this in spite of the fact that he was still often helping her with her homework! Each was trying to slowly curry her favor at the expense of the other – that much was clear – and once the limited permissiveness had lost its novelty Sarah began to wonder what it truly signified.  
  
Of course there was no one to talk to about it, any of it. She had a sneaking suspicion that even if there were beings she could converse with off in the shadow of her private world that Mandor would have ears there, ready to relay any secrets she might confide. It wasn’t that she suspected him of trying to harm her – just the opposite, actually. But it amounted to about the same thing in the end: virtually no privacy beyond physical decency. Mandor seemed to know things about her, about what had been going on, that she had never even mentioned to either him or Suhuy. She had simply come to accept his limited psychic ability, which he admitted was amplified due to her weaker species (there legitimately appeared to be no means of completely shutting it off) but the fact that he could more-or-less read her immediate thoughts and feelings at will at close range was more than a little unnerving at times. She was beginning to wonder with just a touch of paranoia if he ever looked in on her from time to time while invisible, as an unwelcome guardian angel of sorts; such an act would suit his personality. Her fears were probably unfounded; he was nothing but warm and attentive, genuinely caring toward her, a perfect gentleman at all times. And yet she just couldn’t shake the vague feeling of something being… not wrong, but off, like a complex mathematical equation that wouldn’t come out right no matter what she tried. She had grown to love the time she spent in his company. Why did it make her so uneasy in retrospect? It was a matter of basic almost animal instinct, one that the intellectual, logical part of her brain simply couldn’t understand but marked well, nonetheless.  
  
To make life even more complicated, she had a feeling that he knew. Three weeks later during her fencing lesson, Mandor allowed her an easy first bout with both of them only using simple attacks; she was completely suited up but he wore the jacket and glove only without a mask. Even knowing what she was in for, having practiced and practiced and practiced the parries and lunges both alongside him and alone, the sheer shock of seeing him come after her fast with fire in his eye and score a touch on the right side of her chest almost instantly, nearly gave her heart failure. Being close by her, he immediately understood the problem (at least as it was perceivable in that instance) and came up with a brilliant (albeit wholly Chaosian) solution on the fly: putting aside his foil for a moment, he began to shift his figure down until for all the world he looked like a teenage girl with long, straight blonde hair, not much older than Sarah herself! She smiled at her bouting partner’s gaping mouth and gently tapped it closed with her gloved hand, picking back up her foil and Sarah’s discarded mask, presenting it to her. She was pretty after a fashion, but not overly so – it was a fairly average face, actually.  
  
“I’m sorry if Lord Mandor frightened you,” the girl said hesitantly in a voice to match her appearance, “would it be less intimidating to bout with me instead?”  
  
The choice on his part was simply too outrageous for words, but Sarah had to warily agree, and they resumed.  
  
From that day on, Sarah learned, practiced and bouted with the blonde girl; her guardian was so eerily good at it that in the heat of the duel it was almost easy to forget the ruse. Later, as Sarah gained both better skill and confidence, Mandor assumed many guises for her benefit, both men and women, varying in age and appearance, totally random fake humanoid Chaosians all, but never again would he voluntarily raise a weapon against her – even a harmless one in practice – in his true physical state for fear of her seeing him, even subconsciously, as an enemy.  
  
One morning, Sarah came down the stairs to the breakfast table and saw a trump centered on the plate of her place setting, face-side down; Mandor was nowhere to be seen and neither was breakfast. There was a small, handwritten note folded beside it, penned in his scrupulously neat script, the style she knew he usually saved for his formal correspondence. It read:  
  
Sarah, I thought you might enjoy a fresh change of scenery to go with our morning repast. Just turn over the trump and step through – I can’t wait to show you this.  
  
~ Mandor  
  
Feeling just a little giddy (if this was finally what she thought it might be), Sarah picked up the trump carefully and flipped it – and gasped. It was too beautiful to be real, but she had learned that this was Chaos at its best: beautiful beyond logic and reason, alien yet comforting, like an amazing dream that makes perfect sense while you are asleep but is completely unintelligible upon waking.  
  
True to his warning, the tableau couldn’t be further from Earth-coloring: a meadow of heather-gray grass shot through with pearly anemone-type blossoms rolled away into the distance, broken up with stands of dark, elegant weeping willows that appeared to be flowering also, a pale blue. The place was well-lit and yet it was only of a sunset-or-rise intensity, the sky a Chaos-incongruous deep teal. There were three enormous moons – the source of the light – and the visible surface detail of each was staggeringly clear, like looking through a telescope. They were tinted peach, lavender, and a light pink, all in different phases. Suddenly she saw the grass ripple and sparkle like water as the contact went live, a gentle perfumed breeze swaying the delicate tree branches.  
  
It still felt a little awkward doing this without someone else holding the card but Sarah took a deep breath and stepped through, careful to hang onto the thing (she could never get her brain around the spatial contradiction involved.) She slowly turned around, taking it all in, breathing deep. It was hardly stuffy living in such enormous rooms (that was probably the purpose of all that open space) but it was good to have fresh outside air again. The place was nothing short of marvelous and the sudden thought that it was hers made her want to laugh and cry all at the same time. A few finch-small iridescent songbirds flitted by, ‘welcome, welcome’ was their song; they spoke no words yet she understood them. She watched them settle into a willow… and suddenly spotted Mandor standing in front of it, his arms casually crossed, genuinely smiling his natural crooked smile at her reaction.  
  
He should’ve concocted this world for her ages ago, he mused. Mandor had had more experience making places of torment in the past, but Sarah seemed to just be in heaven here, although, to be truthful, the flowers were helping to lighten her mood just a teensy bit. Nothing major, mind you, just a little mild endorphin icing on the paradise cake. She nimbly ran down the short hillside to him, her childlike smile of delight brighter than those pale moons, and caught him in a warm bear-hug; he quietly chuckled at her impetuosity.  
  
“Thank you so much! It’s beautiful!” she nearly choked on emotion.  
  
“You haven’t even had the grand tour yet,” he said, gently pulling away, “but breakfast first,” he admonished, pulling aside the fragrant drooping branches to reveal his invariably sumptuous morning meal, set out picnic style. She entered and he followed, letting the leafy, floral curtain fall closed again.  
  
“Just out of academic curiosity, about where on the shadow-spectrum is this place?” she asked, carefully seating herself on the delicate alien grass; it was silk-soft to the touch but seemingly hardy and difficult to bruise or break.  
  
“Not as far as one might assume,” Mandor replied, kneeling so he could still pass the dishes easily and proceeded to do so; lots of exotic vegetables and fruit mixed in today. “We are only approximately one-quarter of the way to the Dancing Mountains, just eight shadows beyond the Fire Gate, but nevertheless well-hidden.”  
  
The Fire Gate – that phrase rang a bell for Sarah, something about a pitch-black, red-illuminated multi-way station - not unlike an inter-dimensional subway - on the direct approach to Chaos; she had seen sketches of it in one of her books. Odd that Mandor would choose a locale so close to a main thoroughfare. Maybe this was just a pocket dimension, a thin aberration of space-time that could be easy to overlook if one didn’t know what one was looking for or didn’t approach it in the correct manner. That was probably it, she thought as she daintily proceeded to stuff her face; her guardian seemed to hold to the health idea that the biggest meal of the day should be breakfast unless there was a special occasion.  
  
“Did you remember to bring a return trump with you?” he asked, noting the brand-new one lying facedown on a spread length of her black skirt.  
  
Sarah winced her eyes closed, embarrassed. “No.”  
  
Mandor sighed. “You really must learn to store your accumulated trump deck on your person at all times, Sarah. I have even provided you a pouch with fasteners to this purpose. Where did you leave it this time?” he asked wearily.  
  
“It’s in the top drawer of my vanity, safe at home,” she reassured him. “I’m sorry, I’m trying to get better about this, really, but I hadn’t planned on going out today and then I got distracted and I forgot.”  
  
He looked a bit irritated at her continued foolishness – in any real-life scenario such a mistake could easily prove fatal if one traveled to a distant unknown shadow and could not return – but upon hearing not so much her apology but the fact that she subconsciously had begun to think of that apartment as her home, his expression softened a bit.  
  
“Fortunately for you I had a double made of the Library Trump Suhuy painted for you, in case of emergencies,” he said, pulling out his own deck from the left breast-pocket of his coat. Mandor had a considerable formal wardrobe but his trumps were always stored in the same place no matter what he was wearing; the specially-sized pockets had to have been a standing order to his tailor. Popping open the hidden compartment, he extracted the correct trump and passed it to her facedown. “I want this one back; be careful with it.”  
  
She nodded solemnly, accepting it. Returning to her meal, Mandor passed her a rather small glass serving dish containing only four cherry-sized deep-red berries; she looked up at him a little unsure.  
  
“Start with only one,” he answered the question in her eyes with a wry half-smile and she did, carefully piercing a small fruit and lowering it to her plate, then having to work to remove it from the odd utensil but finally managing the maneuver. She was learning relatively quickly but in certain ways she was still very young and inexperienced and sometimes it was obvious. She heard him quietly sigh again but it sounded a little fonder as she put the delicate specialized tongs back.  
  
“I know you have grown very accustomed to me watching out for you, Earth-child,” – Sarah reflexively glanced up at him; it was the one term of endearment he had for her and he didn’t use it often – “but this arrangement isn’t going to last forever and I want you to be ready to fully take care of yourself when the time comes for this to end,” he said a bit gently, consciously assuming the ‘father role’ momentarily. “Do you realize that as of today – this very morning – it has been precisely six months Chaos-reckoning since you commenced your stay with us? Only one month has elapsed on your native shadow. I hope your shadow-double is making good on her vacation from her own world; with any luck it will be a relatively short one,” he stated offhandedly, taking another sip of tea.  
  
Sarah had no idea what version of camilla sinellis this was that he procured but it never had the true tannin bitterness of the real thing and she quickly joined him; all that was left was the tea and the odd berries. Skewering hers on one fork tine slowly so it wouldn’t squirt its blood-red juice everywhere, Sarah tentatively bit into it – and couldn’t believe how rich and spicy it tasted! Taking another sip of tea, it was easy to see why he’d paired these – they complimented each other perfectly. As usual.  
  
_I’m getting spoiled rotten here_ , Sarah thought as she finished off the exotic fruit and chased it down with the rest of her cup. He was right; one was plenty. Mandor seemed to be enjoying their surroundings nearly as much as she was, taking it all in as he leisurely finished his tea. Those bright little birds had been singing softly in the background all the while, songs of growing things and the differing breezes and all the heavenly bodies one could see from here and their poetic names, which were articulate emotions and not words at all. It went on and on but it did not tire her; their sweet heart-music felt like a balm to her brain and nerves. Mandor replaced his cup on its saucer.  
  
“If you are quite finished I would like to show you just one thing on the other side of this tree,” he said, standing and stretching his legs. Sarah got up as well and followed him the short distance over; the dishes had vanished instantly. He had stopped in front of an artificially rectangular patch of grass about three-by-four feet; it was approximately four inches longer than the lawn around it, and it looked darker, thicker. It was waving and undulating in slow motion as if it alone was underwater. “I know you said no sentient plants that can be injured and I assure you this cannot be; in fact some applied weight will actually serve to keep the organism healthy. I must confess the idea for this spot occurred to me due to the fact that I was traveling the Black Road instead of fast shadow-pulling to find a world like this,” he gestured about them. “This is a deliberate mutation of a grass that commonly grows in irregular patches along the edge of the Road. The true species is an omnivore and so entangles its prey that it cannot escape and eventually dies and the nutrients from the broken-down corpse nourish the roots. This genetic variant, however, is strictly vegetarian, symbiotically surviving with this particular tree, and this being the case it will not cling at all; there is simply no need. It does have one very special property, however,” he surrendered a small secretive smile. “Lie down on your back on it.”  
  
Sarah looked highly dubious at this suggestion.  
  
“You’re sure this is actually safe?”  
  
“I tested it out thoroughly before your arrival. Go on, try it, the grass won’t stain your garments, either,” he encouraged her, still smiling, taking the trump from her hand.  
  
Sarah knelt before the bizarre flora. It almost seemed B-grade-horror-flick-cheesy all-of-a-sudden: The Crab Grass that Devoured New York City. She slowly pressed her right hand down into the patch with mild trepidation… and almost melted: those thick blades of blue-green grass were working it over like a massage! Quickly scrambling onto the patch, she lay down on her back as directed, getting her hair out of the way, and let the fabulous sensation take her by storm, her eyes fluttering closed in pleasure with a sigh.  
  
Mandor smirked in satisfaction; this whole thing had almost been too easy. He slowly paced over and sat on his heels next to her.  
  
“You have been spending extra time in the gymnasium and it hardly requires a psychic to divine,” he lightly scolded her. “Your fencing technique is very rapidly showing improvement but you have been increasingly stiff after your bouts and lessons – the stretching is obviously more difficult. If you are going to insist on pushing your natural limitations in such a continuing fashion, basic sports therapy is in order. I want you to use this at least once a week or if you are ever feeling discomfort. It is good that you want to cultivate your abilities, but do not take your ambition to the point of injury.”  
  
Sarah heard his words as if in a daze; it took her a moment to respond.  
  
“I’m… sorry I’ve been so antsy and distrustful of late. You’ve never been anything but good to me,” she sighed absently.  
  
Mandor smiled down on his charge and simply patted her shoulder, standing back up and pacing a few yards away. That organic device certainly relaxed her to an almost surprising degree. This place had potential for other uses it seemed, but he wouldn’t push his luck with any attempted suggestion right now, stashing the idea away for later if it would ever prove necessary for any covert shadow operations. He was already perfectly capable of work like this, but a more roundabout method would look less suspicious to her than him using his spheres; she was too aware of what that brand of magic felt like. He allowed fifteen linear minutes to elapse before disturbing her again, and then her expression was so serene he almost hated to end it; he had never seen her look so happy and at peace.  
  
“Sarah… take my hands,” he prompted quietly. She reached up slowly, half-asleep, and Mandor took them, carefully helping her to her feet. She came to as she stood up, shaking her head clear, blinking.  
  
“Wow…” was all that she said, glancing back down at the wavering plant with an odd sort of admiration; her back and shoulders felt worlds better.  
  
“I shall have to get you a linear pocket-watch with an alarm so that you can time your sessions. If you are ever there beyond two hours the organism will simply roll you off onto the grass. Too much of a good thing…” he let the sentence hang. She nodded. “I must leave you soon but there is someone I want to introduce you to before I go. Come with me.”  
  
They walked back out into the open and climbed the small hill that had been Sarah’s point of arrival. The peach moon actually seemed closer than it had been before but the other two moons were quickly receding. Irregular elliptical orbits, perhaps? The sky was slightly brighter as a result. Mandor raised his left arm up and out, bent at the elbow.  
  
“Sofi!” he called.  
  
Sarah suddenly realized he was holding his arm like a perch. In the distance they heard a faint, female voice reply.  
  
“I come… I come…”  
  
Within seconds a large raven flapped into view; she glided down and easily landed on Mandor’s arm, making a slight bow to him, then turning around to face Sarah.  
  
“Sarah, this is Sofi,” Mandor said, gently stroking her soft chest plumage lightly with the backs of his fingertips, “and, while she can speak, she is no trained parrot. Chaosian ravens are highly intelligent creatures, with a natural capacity for deep thought and profound philosophy. She will make you an excellent conversational companion. Hold out your arm,” he bid her. Sarah did so, fascinated, and Sofi hopped lightly onto it, studying her intently with her bright red eyes. She had a certain weight but she was fairly light for her size. “Now Sofi, Sarah has no one to talk to here save for two old Chaos lords. I want you to be her friend. Grant her your company when she desires it. I know you are terribly curious about her and the shadow she hails from but do not pester her with endless questions. I am sure she will be more than happy to speak on the subject in her own time. She no doubt has many questions about you as well. Be civil and courteous toward her and this should be enjoyable for you both.”  
  
“Yes, my lord,” the raven answered him demurely. Even though her avian voice had that distinct tape-recorder-type fuzz that parrots often had when mimicking human speech, it was still rather lovely. “Ah, Mistress Sarah! What a delight to have a fresh intellect to commune with! The worlds are indeed vast and though little of them is of much consequence, there is much to do and see and learn,” she began to discourse, stalking up Sarah’s arm to perch on her shoulder, delicately tucking her hair out of the way with her beak. “You have not yet even seen all that there is of this one. There is a freshwater spring in the valley beyond here, and orchards beside, and a quaint family of small furry animals of whom I am not sure of their purpose but to endear-”  
  
“I’ll just leave you two to become better acquainted,” Mandor interrupted her; sometimes it was difficult to get a word in edgewise with these creatures. “Sarah, this is a relatively protected environment but you staying here alone for a certain period of time is a considerable step forward today,” he said, handing back the two trumps. “If you manage to return to the library at the setting of the peach moon, you will be in time for lunch. I shall see you later.”  
  
“What of my morning lesson with Lord Suhuy?” Sarah asked, suddenly worried that they could both be in hot water over this breach.  
  
“You leave that to me,” Mandor smiled, “enjoy your morning off. Or, rather, afternoon should you care to be technically correct. Until this evening.”  
  
Sarah watched as he called forth two Logrus strands, encased both arms and suddenly shot into the black oblivion, which closed up of its own accord only seconds later.  
  
_People come and go so quickly here_ , she thought with a light smirk.  
  
“What is amusing, Mistress Sarah?”  
  
She had been so caught up in watching Mandor’s flashy exit she had nearly forgotten the raven on her shoulder.  
  
“Oh, it only reminded me of an old story from Shadow Earth, about a girl who accidentally travels to a very different world and has to find her way back home again.”  
  
“A simple narrative device, but one richly embellished, yes?”  
  
Sarah nodded. “Chaos is light-years weirder than anything Frank Baum could’ve dreamed up.”  
  
“No doubt this is so, but all things one may dream are possible in shadow, even copies of one’s own pasts and potential futures,” Sofi resumed her discourse as Sarah made her way over the other side of the hill and down the valley toward the sound of the running spring, tiny harmless creatures in the meadow and little bright birds following in her wake in curiosity…  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Mandor quickly made it back to the library of his demesne; Suhuy was already there, demon-formed to go out and looking none too pleased.  
  
“What in Chaos do you think you are doing, spiriting her away like that and leaving her to her own devices?” he pressed Mandor the moment he saw him begin to materialize in the room.  
  
“Assuaging a bit of well-deserved paranoia, Uncle; she is practically under house arrest here and is beginning to sense it in truth regardless of the reasoning behind it,” Mandor calmly replied, walking over to a nearby bookshelf and plucking off a well-worn tome. “How did you even figure it out?”  
  
“You are not the only one with a tracking spell on her, and it would be only too easy for anyone of training to do likewise! You left her alone out there?!”  
  
“Of course not,” Mandor answered a bit tersely, seating himself on one of the couches, putting his feet up as he opened the book. “I left her in the charge of Sofi.”  
  
Suhuy’s darkened countenance suddenly softened into a slightly better humor, a wry smirk slowly spreading across his face, revealing one fang. “I should have guessed it. You’ve assured your ‘raven’s’ good behavior and general cooperation this time?”  
  
“She knows that if I hear Sarah complaining of her being a nuisance I’ll catch her and clip her flight feathers again,” he said, flipping to a specific section.  
  
Suhuy quietly laughed. “Forgive the hasty accusation, nephew. I’d nearly forgotten just how subtly you operate under ideal conditions.”  
  
Mandor gave a small lip-smile at the compliment without looking up. “Force and stricture can never hope to achieve even a fraction of what may be easily accomplished with a little well-placed indulgence. She will return in a greatly lightened and calmer mood and a much more receptive frame of mind this afternoon. I promise you’ll have her back after lunch.” And with that he commenced to read.


	7. The Sorcerer's Apprentice

The soft pink-tinged light filtered gently through the drooping leaves and blossoms of Sarah’s tree, dappling her face as she lay on the therapeutic long-grass in languid, thoughtless ecstasy. After a relatively uneventful period of finally getting a decent night’s rest on a regular basis, she had begun to get bad dreams again within the last few days. The odd thing was that these ones involved her home Shadow now, with harmless things and people turning scarily evil on her. It wasn’t impeding her rest in that it was waking her up often, but the pattern was a bit disturbing. It was a relief to have this tiny alcove of oblivious happiness to run off to in her spare time, which there was more of of late; Suhuy must’ve about exhausted every conceivable topic she was suited to learn by now, although her Thari vocabulary was still improving a bit. She had ceased to even think in English anymore for the most part.  
  
Her reverie was suddenly interrupted by what sounded like the recording of a human female voice chanting in monotone; she cracked open an eye and spotted Sofi perched up in the branches above her, eyes closed, her strong corvine voice projecting away.  
  
“Hey there,” Sarah greeted her lazily; the bird could be slightly annoying at times, but she was genuinely grateful for the companionship on the whole, although she wasn’t entirely certain if such a forced vassal relationship could ever really technically extend to true friendship. Oh well.  
  
“Oh, forgive me for disturbing you, mistress!” Sofi rapidly apologized. “I was merely attempting to commune with you in your quest for sacred nothingness; it is indeed a blessing that my master has provided you with such a wondrous tool for the journey.”  
  
“You really do have a thing for Eastern philosophy, don’t you? I’m not deliberately meditating down here; the relaxation is just a side benefit of the use of the organism.”  
  
“Eastern, mistress? Why should such thought hold fast to any cardinal direction? It is beyond them all.”  
  
“Has to do with Shadow Earth global culture,” Sarah sighed, not really feeling up to this sort of discourse right this second. “The idea of giving up the self to join your consciousness with something bigger or just plain obliterate it is historically Eastern. Or ‘New Age’ now, come to think of it. Whichever,” she said flippantly, closing her eyes again.  
  
“It is the founding school of thought of Chaos,” Sofi flapped down to the lawn beside Sarah, stalking closer, “and yet even after all this time you hold out against it,” she observed, sounding amused. “There is still much Order to be found in your mind yet.”  
  
“I was made in Order,” Sarah answered simply. “I’m probably made of Order. The result is sort of inevitable.” She rolled onto her side so she could look the raven in the eye, stifling a small sound of pleasure at the feel of those thin, verdant fingers slowly caressing her neck. “It seems a curious conscious choice to me to so diminish the importance of the individual when, from what I have seen myself and been taught, the worlds of Shadow and their inhabitants depend so heavily on our conscious perception of them.”  
  
“Then perhaps we can perceive you strongly enough to enlighten your mind,” Sofi lightly teased her. “Is not your session here about ended for today?”  
  
Sarah groaned; she always hated when this was over and she had to get back up and go face the strange some more. To her surprise, the strong grass started to tickle her – hard – shocking her fully aware; with a gasp of involuntary laughter, she quickly rolled off the patch herself. Then looked back down at it with a note of caution.  
  
“It shouldn’t have been able to do that.”  
  
Sofi pecked at an errant blade that instantly recoiled away from her razor-sharp beak. “The organism is probably ingesting miniscule amount of your bioelectricity because you spend so much time here. Perhaps it will weaken once more if you pace your sessions at wider intervals, but if the behavior progresses definitely speak to Lord Suhuy of the matter; he has very detailed knowledge of shadow flora and fauna. The phenomenon might be a sign that the organism is beginning to revert back to a more natural state. Or perhaps my master thought the slight effect harmless enough and did not wish to make you needlessly concerned.”  
  
Sarah conceded that the latter hypothesis had the ring of truth to it as she stood back up, straightening her long skirts. She had nearly stopped wearing pants altogether unless it was actually required of her for an activity; she had simply adjusted to this minor social aspect of Chaosian culture completely by now and had no real reason to look back.  
  
Of course, full assimilation would have been easier without certain basic hindrances, namely restricted magic use (involuntary) and denied exposure to that world at large (allegedly involuntary, but she had never seen believable proof to support this stance, given that even native Chaosians spent most of their lives safely indoors and one could often get from point A to point B without having to go out into that ‘natural’ chemical smog.) If her life was somewhat limited here, it was fairly pleasant on the whole and now she had an entire world to run wild in besides. There had been so many instances already that she wished she’d had a camera. The landscape was simply gorgeous out here, lush but with the otherworldly coloring; it looked like a sort of fairyland, especially when the breeze made the grass glitter like sunlight on water. Little furry alien creatures of varying description tended to follow her about when she meandered down to the stream in the meadow; they weren’t terribly intelligent but all were sweet-natured and docile as house pets – she’d been naming them. Those bright little birds would come and perch on her head and shoulders, even sitting on her fingers like trained parakeets, and would sing for her. In time she learned how to mimic their speech enough in whistling to facilitate a form of basic communication, although Sofi often interrupted her in this, jealous of the attention she gave them.  
  
True to Mandor’s word, the raven practically lived and breathed complex topics of conversation, delighting in goading Sarah into highly intellectual discussions on practically every subject imaginable, sharpening her wit with logic conundrums and riddles. Sofi was entertaining in her own way, prone to pedanticy but generally good-natured with a decent sense of humor, although she personally fell far short of a human girlfriend. Sarah couldn’t blame her for this – it simply wasn’t in her nature - but there were times that she longed to speak of simple, unimportant, mundane things and Sofi sensed this from her mistress’ demeanor and attempted to oblige her. Certain habits die hard, however, and now that she had the space to herself again Sarah took to bringing books of literature and plays with her to the field, reading out scenes with the raven and even acting out a few just for fun. While not Sofi’s cup of tea, the change in itself was of interest to the bird and in time she told her master as much; she knew it was technically a waste of time – as was much of what the girl did on that shadow – but nevertheless he seemed pleased. She ultimately dismissed his reaction out-of-wing as purely sentimental; the old Chaos lord had a penchant for a certain amount of frivolous activity himself and he was obviously fond of the child after a certain sense. If Sofi had heard even a whisper of the truth, it would’ve left her in serious moral quandary.  
  
For Mandor Sawall was deliberately using this time Sarah spent away in rest as a carefully calculated counterbalance to the psychological conditioning that Suhuy was slowly starting to perform on her unconscious mind. With most of the possible curriculum out of the way, they needed to start preparing her for the immediate future of her being a Chaos agent on Shadow Earth, a very different sort of training altogether. Granted, some of what would be expected of her would come relatively easily since she was a native to the shadow, but it would take considerable time to instill the proper instincts, the basic stealth-level-operation skills, the mindset necessary for her to be of real use to them. Really, it was not unlike training a service animal for war purposes, although there was often better payoff for the inductees at the initiate level for Chaos, including direct access to backup forces in the Courts on top of the Logrus’ power being at their disposal. By the time she was ready to return home, Sarah would be even more scarily formidable than she had already become, to the point that – in the unlikely event that it actually became necessary – she would automatically turn on her own kind without a second thought and no immediate remorse. Her loyalty would be conditioned now, pushed to the limit; it was a dirty job but it was theirs to effect. They would take their time; rushing the process would simply ruin the desired outcome. And in the meantime Sarah had to be brought to associate some modicum of recognizable Chaos with pleasure and happiness greater than she had found in her own world. Mandor certainly hoped it wouldn’t come to this but she had to be willing to die for the Courts by the time she left them.  
  
But Sarah knew nothing of this. Mandor still smiled upon her benevolently, fed her exotic formal meals, helped her with her homework, and (in most other ways) became for all practical purposes the father she had always longed for. There were still times that he seemed a little odd and enigmatic, but Sarah simply wrote it off as a quirk of his Chaosian nature and never fretted over the tiny inconsistencies. Of course, the chemical compound emitted by the flora of her private shadow was helping with this general mood also.  
  
Nevertheless, for all his cunning, planning, and at times covert reconnaissance, Lord Mandor didn’t know everything. He had known for some time that she spent extra time in the gymnasium but he had never actually asked her why; he had always assumed she was exercising not only her body but exorcising her general frustration with her relatively cooped-up existence, however temporary it was, and he was willing to leave the matter be as long as she took care of herself afterwards.  
  
The truth was that she was covertly spending time looking out of those immense, thick-but-not-quite-thick-enough plates of transparent material into the beautiful, icy wasteland beyond, often at odd times of the night when she awoke. It rubbed the wrong way against a very human instinct to never be able to look out of the window and see where she really was. Even with the knowledge that this single room alone was on this particular shadow, it didn’t diminish from the sense of grounded reality that she got from this exercise. It served to overemphasize just how terribly alone she was out here, though. She desperately missed normal human companionship; the humanoid forms of the two Chaos lords hid little when one knew them in truth. That and an Earth-biased sense of time: linear 24/7 – no bells-and-whistles, no inexplicable periods of technical retrograde, honest-to-god day and night instead of the anti-Copernican dome of the heavens that swung back-and-forth limitedly on a vertical axis, which she only viewed undiscovered in this room, often around Orangesky (the colors followed no logical chromatic order, either.) It was a stark reminder that the safe little celestial display Mandor had made for her in her normal rooms was strictly artificial, an offering to aid her physical human weakness.  
  
And the view from here was pretty – majestic, desolate, but pretty nonetheless. She was always careful to put on her thick leather fencing glove before even touching the drapes. The gym would’ve looked spectacular with them fully open but she understood all too well why Mandor never did it: even having just one slightly looped back made the room notably cooler in a matter of minutes. Really, it was an interesting private blunder on his part when she thought about it. Lord Mandor Sawall – her guardian, she mentally added fondly – was an outrageously powerful sorcerer and almost scarily intelligent, but it was comforting to know that he had his limits, that he still made mistakes on rare occasion.  
  
She was not, however, prepared for the one she ran into by sheer blind chance late one ‘night’ in that room. She had woken up not remembering why and, feeling restless, she had taken the usual walk to calm her nerves and wound up in the gym again. She had been taught how to make spirit-light – an orb of blue luminescence that sat in the palm of her hand at will – so there was no need to ‘turn on’ ‘the lights’. It had been nearly a month since the Shadowmaster had been by last to stabilize the walls. Mandor had asked her just the previous evening over dinner if she would mind camping out for only one night on her shadow so the job could be done (clearly she was not going to get to see the Ways of Sawall any time soon.) After a little play-pouting, she easily agreed; if the moons looked that spectacular during ‘daylight’ hours, it was nothing compared to the Technicolor stars do-si-do-ing away out in that proto-Chaosian cosmos at night. And Mandor knew it, providing her with compact high-definition binoculars on the spot with a knowing smile.  
  
Walking past those suits of armor in the dark was always just a little creepy; the play of cast shadows from a singular light source did wild things in that hall. She was always careful to edge by that last suit in particular – even sitting innocuously by itself in the case, she swore she could feel that malevolent thing watching her intently as she inched by. Once inside the gymnasium, however, all was perfectly still and unnaturally quiet save for her light footfalls, and, once the far right drape was opened, lovely.  
  
She was just making her way across the large open room to the window in question when an unexpected sound made her freeze in her tracks: the faint but definite sound of a man talking! She shook her head a moment but it was no dream… and it was coming through the ceiling, over by the practice equipment on the left side. Was it Mandor? It could’ve been from the vocal register but she couldn’t honestly tell; the speech was too faint and muffled by the barrier besides. Consumed by sudden terrible curiosity, she briefly considered listening in, using his own trump to amplify it, but quickly discarded the idea; the magic involved was too darn obvious - he would know immediately and seriously question what she was up to in here in the first place. That left physical means - getting close enough to hear but not close enough that he could feel her presence. Of all the tricks he could do with those spheres, she envied his ability to levitate most of all. It was infuriating at times how little magic she could perform on a small, practical level!  
  
And then an idea hit her. Carefully removing her slippers, she quickly tiptoed back out of the room, then ran to get one of the floating stair-risers from the library, grinning at the thought that she could actually fake this one. Until she tried to get it past the door with her – it was easily small enough to fit through the physical portal but for some reason it simply wouldn’t come through, as if it had the magical equivalent of locking shopping-cart wheels so it couldn’t leave the room. _Oh well, it was worth a shot_ , she thought, letting it float back to its normal position in the staircase before re-entering the gym herself.  
  
What to use? The sound of the voice had gotten a bit fainter, moved farther back closer to the heavy exercise machines. Noiselessly padding over, she scoped the individual pieces out for ease and practicality of climbing. Her choices were scanty at best: not enough footholds, not tall enough, not sturdy enough to support her full weight without breaking. Then she remembered the practice dummy; the black stuffed figure was about six-and-a-half feet tall including the base, rather heavy, and could be locked into stationary position. If only…  
  
Sarah had never actually tried to animate the thing before, and while she held a certain logical trepidation over the course of action she knew she could get higher up on it if it actively helped to support her. Reaching for the Logrus, she ‘felt’ the dummy construct through the black tendrils: it carried no less than three imbedded spells - one for organic movement, one for a sense of automatic danger so it would fight, and a very primitive sense of honor so it would fight fair. All hinged on activating and deactivating a magical trigger mechanism, rather like fitting a key into a lock. Could she manage to pick only certain tumblers without the rest of the system falling into place? Very tentatively she began to lightly ply the surface of the first spell to see if it would give…  
  
And the dummy saluted as if it had sword in hand and struck a rather convincing en garde!  
  
_No! I’m not here to fight you!_ She frantically willed to it. _See? I’m unarmed – I’m not a threat._  
  
Her breath caught in her throat as the automaton dropped the formal starting position, head tilted to one side as it slowly pointed to her, almost a questioning gesture.  
  
_It’s alright, I won’t hurt you_ , she bravely took a step closer. Simple commands would probably work best; she had no idea how much of a brain it had, if any. _Can you help me stand on your shoulders? Just hoist me higher so I can climb up on you. It’ll be okay.  
_  
The dummy slowly reached out its great arms toward her, unsure of the precise physical command being asked of it. Sarah took a deep breath and gently placed the padded hands on her waist, bending them to close on her. _Try to lift me up_ , she suggested.  
  
The thing had absolutely no sense of touch and wound up holding her too tightly, but she managed to clamber up onto its broad fake shoulders with a couple more short commands, and – with the hands firmly supporting her legs – stood on them, her arms out for balance.  
  
_I won’t be long; just keep me steady and don’t move again until I tell you to.  
_  
The black featureless head nodded slowly once.  
  
If only she had gotten something to work sooner! The conversation sounded as if it was nearly ended but now that she could finally sort of make it out, she could hear that it was only one-sided; obviously a trump call. It was a really good thing she had decided against listening in! What remained of the call still sounded very odd to her, though.  
  
“…yes…of course I have, do you think I’m new at this? It’s just…look, I know you’re right but be gentle; she doesn’t exactly spring back easily…right…anytime, whatever suits you…very well, you may commence planting the hooks; I’ll bring them to the fore one by one later once they’re good and anchored…yes…I think she would appreciate that…” There was momentary laughter. “That sounds fairly accurate. Until tomorrow then…”  
  
He was obviously wrapping up; nothing more to be learned here. She could speculate on what it all meant later but first she had to get back down in one piece. Slowly bending her knees, crouching into a squat with her arms out in front of her (those fencing lessons had done wonders for her leg muscles), she gripped the shoulders tightly in preparation.  
  
_Let go of my legs_ , she instructed the dummy, who quickly released its vice-like grip on them. She’d probably have a few bruises from this idiocy but at least it would be easy enough to hide them until they faded; all of the clothing that had been provided her was beautiful and form-flattering but modest in the extreme with almost no exposed skin whatsoever. Swinging her legs back down, she would’ve made a clean landing if her socks hadn’t been so slick on that floor; she slipped at the last moment and landed hard on her tailbone – thankfully on a wrestling mat – but that had been far from silent. As she rallied against the pain, she belatedly realized that that upper room was dead quiet now…and it suddenly occurred to her that he might have heard it! If he had, she didn’t have time to run and her trump deck was in her room – why did she never have them when she needed them?! She then noticed the dummy with its arms still raised.  
  
_Drop your arms to your sides! Thanks! Goodbye!_ She hurriedly willed, yanking the proverbial power cord just as it did so. She shuddered against the feeling of the receding Logrus, but right before it disappeared what was left of it empathically warned her that Mandor was moments from coming through into the room! Like lightning she got behind the weight machine with her shoes, lying on the ground facedown, extinguishing the spirit-light. Between her long sable hair and her long black nightdress she was as indistinct as any shadow in that darkness, but if he spotted her she was a sitting duck!  
  
To complete Sarah’s surprise, she heard his boots enter the room a mere twenty feet beyond where she lay prone – he didn’t use a Logrus portal; he simply walked in straight through an unmarked wall! _The true door must be there_ , she thought, wishing she could risk a glance up but didn’t dare to as she tried to breathe as noiselessly as humanly possible.  
  
Mandor had indeed heard a dull thud come from this room mere seconds ago. His personal sense of vigilance might have seemed odd to a casual observer outside of the Courts, but in a world practically teeming with things that not only went bump in the night but did so on a regular basis, they knew better than to do it here. Most of the serving staff had already retired for a period of rest. It was practically impossible for intruders to break into Mandorways, but the incident struck him as genuinely strange for some innate reason and he decided to satisfy his own curiosity; worrying was silly and infantile when one could directly deal with one’s problems. Heading down in his green-flame form, he passed through the ‘natural’ door - reflecting that it needed to be closed again - and took a quick scan around the room with his blazing eyes, then brought up the Logrus in order to look through it. Something definitely felt off in here but he was surprisingly hard-pressed to pinpoint exactly what…until he spotted a length of fandon that had crumpled down from a snapped wooden fixture in one of the cases along the wall. That was technically heavy enough to have made that sound. He would have the display repaired at Redsky tomorrow; there was no rush. It still felt strange, almost Patternish in the room… He shook himself of the absurd feeling, stepping back out.  
  
If Sarah hadn’t already been lying on her face on the floor she would’ve physically collapsed in relief – that had been far too close! She went to get back up, starting to feel stiff and not just from the minor injury, when the thought that Mandor might be lying in wait just on the opposite side of the wall occurred to her and she froze, knowing that the portal was probably thin enough to see straight through! She proceeded to mentally list off all the Noble Houses of the Courts, their respective heraldries, and their current politically and socially active members in order of rank for fifteen linear minutes before daring to get up again, hightailing it back to her room. She noted that the blade of the Amberite broadsword in the historical curiosities case in the hall seemed to be shining faintly from some inner light as she ran past it in the dark; it hadn’t been before.  
  
The following day held an even bigger shock when she was casually informed by Mandor over breakfast of the seemingly freak incident that – completely unbeknownst to him – had literally saved her hide. Everything had looked normal to her when she had initially walked by the functional weapons case in the gym last night! It was positively chilling thinking that there might’ve been someone or something hiding in the dark in that room while she had been there, and Sarah resolved to scope the place out more carefully from now on if she was ever in there by herself again. A pretty view wasn’t worth getting ambushed.  
  
Outside of that incident, life in general seemed to be holding normal (such as it was.) Her dreams, however, were continuing to get stranger and much more frequently she awoke in the morning feeling oddly rested but slightly emotionally disturbed without comprehending why. That peculiar snippet of overheard conversation plagued her brain. Had Mandor actually been speaking of something to be done to her? Or had it been another completely unrelated matter entirely? From what he had told her of himself, he did sort of lead a weird life (as far as an Order-shadow would think of it) in certain aspects. There was no way of asking about the incident without incriminating herself, though. To say that her guardian would be displeased was a severe understatement; indiscreet intentional spying on any noble in the Courts was technically a punishable criminal offense here (nothing like privilege laws to further protect the already heavily protected elite class.) But she couldn’t just let this eat at her indefinitely, either. Finally one day - with her post-lunch lessons and Suhuy safely out of the way - she forced herself to stop waffling on the issue and dug out Mandor’s trump. She’d no idea where he was but it would be only the third time she had ever called him in this manner for any reason at all and the cause as she planned to present it was decent; he wouldn’t be angry with her. She just had to be extremely careful of how she couched the subject. Concentrating on the image of the seated, calculating man, at length she saw the lines waver and suddenly found herself viewing the genuine article: he appeared to be walking outside in an eclectic cemetery of all places - he saw her also.  
  
“Sarah, this is indeed a surprise! There is trouble at home?”  
  
“…kind of, but I guess it’s not a matter of life-and-death. If you’re busy it can wait. Sorry to bother you,” she shook her head, about to sever the contact.  
  
His expression changed immediately to patiently schooling. “Whatever it is is bothering _you_ sufficiently that it couldn’t wait two linear hours to see me at dinner. Give me your hand.”  
  
He reached out his right hand to her and somehow Sarah saw her own pass through the trump; he clasped it firmly and she stepped backwards a few paces, pulling him through. Mandor glanced about; the library was still standing.  
  
“Not difficulty with a spell?”  
  
“No, nothing like that.” She was beginning to feel acutely embarrassed about bothering him like this.  
  
“Then why don’t we sit and you can tell me what is troubling you so,” he warmly offered, lightly resting his hand on the back of her shoulder, guiding them toward the large couch by the fire.  
  
Sarah desperately tried to get her thoughts lined up as they walked over. She sat down on the left side, placing a pillow in her lap and holding it. Her guardian lounged comfortably on the other end, angled toward her, one leg on his knee, resting his arms on the back and side of the couch. It was a very purposeful, casual, open stance to put her at her ease, and he knew she knew it.  
  
“I’m all ears. What’s going on?”  
  
Sarah stared down uncomfortably in spite of it, then gazed at the purple flames flickering and crackling in the grate; even basic elements could be different chemical colors here. “I’m having bizarre nightmares again. I hadn’t had any at all for over three months – I really thought I was past this – and then they just started again out-of-the-blue last week. I can’t even think why I’m getting them and I feel so ashamed bringing this up now, when you offered before…”  
  
Mandor quietly exhaled. “The human subconscious often initially represses a painful event only to suddenly release it later on. I knew we would have to eventually deal with your trauma in coming here, but I have to admit to being amazed that you held out this long. You have an unusually strong will but keeping these memories is clearly unhealthy for your mind. You have no reason to feel ashamed; I told you to bring this to me if it became too much for you to bear. We can remedy the situation easily right now – lie back,” he instructed her, getting out one of his spheres.  
  
Sarah emphatically shook her head no, aware of what he was about to do! “But it’s not that – that’s precisely what worries me! These are entirely different. I can’t explain why, but in all honesty I don’t think they’re related at all!”  
  
Mandor stopped cold, turning to eye her with a startlingly intense level of scrutiny. “Different? How?”  
  
Sarah faltered a moment; she wasn’t used to seeing him like this. “They…they’re dreams of weird – evil – things being done to me in my life on Shadow Earth, perpetrated by people I care about. It’s horrible!” she shuddered. “You’ve got to believe I’ve never had dreams like this before in my life! I don’t have any idea of what could be causing them! What’s happening to me?!”  
  
Mandor’s expression softened considerably as he thoughtfully looked away from her, idly fidgeting with the small metal sphere in his hand. He seemed to be considering something but quickly came to a decision, for which Sarah was rather grateful; it was difficult trying not to think of that fateful night right about now and who knew what he was picking up from her at present! He nodded to himself. “Come closer,” he said quietly, patting the cushion right next to him.  
  
_I’m done for_ , Sarah thought but did as he bade her. Turning fully to face her, he raised the sphere, carefully resting it against the third-eye region of her forehead, just above the bridge of her nose, and clicked it on. He understood all too well what the trouble was but couldn’t tell her; Suhuy was clearly attempting a shortcut by only using dream sequences instead of going to the trouble of actually burying the necessary information in her unconscious, and the process was quickly making a mess of her waking mind. She was attempting to hide her thoughts from him but she seemed to have made the educated guess that the cause might be artificial – a wonder in itself, but one he could not afford for her to entertain even briefly at this stage of the game. He could fix this minor botch-up, however. Slowly turning the upper-half of the sphere counterclockwise with his thumb, he first dialed back her distress – the tension just melted out of Sarah and she sighed in relief; he smiled – then kept turning it, fading away the memories of the new dreams while maintaining the tentative beginnings of distrust of the Order-based worlds, culminating in erasing her memory of why she had even called him here in the first place. It was as if it had never happened at all; he put the sphere back in his pocket, carefully watching her now-vacant expression. He discreetly clicked it back off.  
  
Sarah blinked, shaking her head clear. What had just happened? Mandor was seated beside her, looking a little concerned.  
  
“Are you getting adequate rest at night, Sarah? You seemed to have nodded off there for a moment. What was it you were asking me? Something to do with your coursework, I believe it was.”  
  
Sarah felt confused – she couldn’t even remember sitting down here, but even that was beginning to fade in the onslaught of so much replacement information in the immediate aftermath. She had to concede that she had been up a lot at night lately for no particular reason; maybe her circadian rhythms were finally rebelling on her. _Just what I need_ , she thought a little sarcastically.  
  
Then she actually did remember something that she had genuinely been meaning to ask her guardian, even though she had a feeling that the answer would be an automatic ‘no’. But it didn’t hurt to try.  
  
“Now that I’m further along in my studies, do you think I could finally learn to draw? I want to practice landscapes on my shadow – there are so many beautiful things there and I know memory will not preserve them all for me.”  
  
Mandor stood back up before she had time to register just how close they had been sitting for no apparent reason, a wry little smile playing about his lips.  
  
“You are under no circumstances to be taught to draw a trump, and don’t think for a second you can wheedle me on this – I know you far too well,” he lightly teased, turning to face her again, leaning against the right side of the mantle. “Having said this, I see no harm in your learning the basics for pleasure’s sake as long as this much is understood and observed. Convincing Lord Suhuy may take a little more work, but you leave it to me to bring up the subject. At any rate, I need to speak to him privately about some of your upcoming lessons. If I am unused to dealing with humans in general, he is exponentially so; to my knowledge he has never left the Courts for any reason at all, and I believe some of the remaining coursework and training could be made considerably smoother for you if it is tailored to better fit your species.”  
  
What Mandor meant by this cryptic statement Sarah never truly discovered, but before the week was out she had been provided with a set of artist-grade pencils, both color and varying hardnesses of graphite, and a nice hard-bound drawing tablet. Suhuy had outright forbidden her from toying with the paints – the normal medium of the permanent trumps – but was willing to let her tinker with the ‘lesser’ art supplies, if only to satisfy her curiosity on the subject.  
  
They all quickly discovered, to Sarah’s extreme disappointment and the Chaos lords’ profound relief, that all the worrying had been in vain: she was a terrible artist. It wasn’t just beginner’s mistakes, mind you; she really, seriously, could not draw. Her perspective stayed bad, her shading lacked uniform touch, she couldn’t make so much as a straight line without something to guide it. It was terribly frustrating for her to fail after all that time spent hoping, waiting for the right chance. In the back of her mind the Labyrinth still loomed large and, well, yes of course Mandor had been right on the money with his suspicions; she had secretly wanted to attempt rendering a trump of the place. Obviously it wasn’t going to happen any time soon.  
  
Persistent, continuing failure didn’t stop her from trying, however; it just made the practice more secretive. She still took her tablet and pencil bag with her to her shadow often enough and would attempt at least one sketch per visit. The quality remained shoddy regardless of the subject matter or the amount of time she spent on them. She even attempted a portrait of Sofi one day and it turned out so embarrassingly bad that Sarah crumpled it up and tossed it away with a cry of aggravation, lying down face-first beneath a silver willow on the grass, beating the ground once with her fist. It was too much.  
  
Sofi was slightly startled by her mistress’ sudden outburst but she retrieved the ball of paper and deposited it beside the discarded drawing pad, carefully approaching her.  
  
“Why do you allow this one weakness to torment you so, Mistress Sarah?” she asked sympathetically. “You have many strengths and talents. If it is a further talent in the arts you desire we could try music, just you and me; no one else need know. If it would please you, I can teach you to sing.”  
  
Sarah sat back up and regarded the large charcoal smudge of feathers and beak that she couldn’t draw correctly if her life depended on it.  
  
“I guess you could say this is a matter of personal pride; it’s just something I need to be able to do.”  
  
Sofi flapped once and lightly hopped onto her shoulder. “But pride also has no purpose or meaning, mistress; it accomplishes nothing.”  
  
Sarah sighed. Sofi was genuinely trying to console her in spite of the fact that she didn’t even understand what was wrong and thought Sarah was being stupid – bless her weird little avian heart – but could she actually trust her with this? Sarah looked down and picked up a fallen blossom from the grassy carpet, playing with it idly. “If I tell you what this is really about will you promise not to relay the information back to Mandor?” she asked very quietly.  
  
The raven had the nerve to gasp in shock as if scandalized by the idea. “Why, mistress! What would ever-”  
  
“There was no way he could’ve possibly known what my favorite fruit is from this shadow; he never comes here himself and he can only pick thoughts from my head close-range that I’m actively thinking at the time,” Sarah answered levelly. “I know you tell him things about me.”  
  
Sofi hesitated a moment before responding. “I cannot deny that periodically he comes here while you are absent and asks me certain questions, but I am not a recording service; I do not repeat all that we converse in private, for this was part of my predetermined function in serving you. I cannot make such an open-ended promise of secrecy without first knowing the subject matter,” she lightly preened Sarah, making her smirk, “but perhaps you’d best tell me anyway – it might make you feel better just to say it aloud. I will not immediately pass judgment on you, if that is what you fear.”  
  
_No, actually what I’m afraid of is Mandor catching wind of this_ , Sarah thought. Sofi probably wasn’t the most reliable confidante but in all seriousness, who else did she have? She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, hoping against hope nothing else was listening too closely, either. “I’m trying to get good enough to be able to draw a trump of a specific shadow-place from memory.” She opened her eyes and glanced over at the raven on her shoulder; she showed no obvious emotional response but then again it was difficult to display any emotions with a corvine face.  
  
“You are attempting to leave us, then?” The simple statement held a surprising level of emotional pain.  
  
“No, I’m not running out on you, Sofi,” Sarah reassured her, gently stroking her feathers. “Eventually I will have to go back home, though. I promise I’ll give you plenty of warning before it’s time. I’ll miss you, too, but somehow I don’t think you’d ever be truly happy in Order.”  
  
“You are most likely correct, mistress,” Sofi replied, sounding herself once more. “At any rate I doubt my master would allow me so permanent a state of leave. Still, for your own sake I must strongly council against what you intend to do; surely you have been taught the extreme danger involved should the device fail.”  
  
“Oh, don’t worry, that’s been drilled into me pretty thoroughly,” Sarah rolled her eyes. “I have no plans of trying to walk through the thing. I just want… need… to talk to someone, about…something.”  
  
“I see,” Sofi said quietly, hopping back off her shoulder onto the lawn.  
  
“It’s not like that!” Sarah protested, “It’s just that… well… to the best of my knowledge Mandor owns you somehow, and while I really do enjoy talking and spending time with you, I think I’m going to need an outside, unaffiliated third-party opinion for this. I’d been meaning to try this for ages anyway, but…” Sarah just shook her head, looking away.  
  
Sofi wandered back over. “I give you my word I will not give my master reason to ask – it is the best I can manage – but may I inquire as to what spurs this desperate, covert course of action?”  
  
Sarah looked the raven right in her red eye. “There’s something very strange going on here – it’s a vague feeling, I guess you could call it animal instinct. I sense that something big is starting to change, something fundamental and sweeping. The fact that I can’t figure it out at all is beginning to concern me a little; I clearly can’t do this alone. And I’ve got a very pragmatic friend just this side of the Divide who might have enough secondhand experience with magic and mind-games to be able to see my situation for what it truly is, if it’s anything. I get the feeling it would be the apex of foolishness to ask either Mandor or Lord Suhuy. Thinking back…” she closed her eyes, furrowing her brow in concentration, “for some reason – it doesn’t make any sense – but I have a faint, lingering impression that I’ve asked Mandor already. But I don’t actually remember doing it.” She opened her eyes again, looking straight at Sofi. “I know I did! Do you see why I have to at least try? I know they’re doing their best to help me - that they’re both doing what they think is best – but there’s a subtle part to this equation that I simply cannot see and I’m afraid it may be crucial that I can. My gut is just railing against this feeling and has been for ages. It might even be that the Logrus is trying to warp me to fit Herself better; She tried something similar early on when I first got here. Or maybe I’m just going stir-crazy in the total absence of other member of my species, I don’t really know. What do you think?”  
  
The raven bowed her head, gravely pondering the presented conundrum. “Perhaps there is some slight wisdom in what you seek to accomplish; the Id is at times more trustworthy than the Ego, and it is good that you allow yours input without mastery.” She looked back up. “On the other wing, you are being actively trained to live as an agent of Chaos deep in enemy territory – indeed your home Shadow – and I know not what is technically necessary to accomplish this end, either. I understand well that this is no doubt a biased sentiment colored by my own experience and inbred loyalty – precisely why you wish to seek council elsewhere – but before you attempt anything rash I would impart this one thought: please do not fear my master. Remember that he speaks to me of you, also. He genuinely wishes you well and desires you to be not only high-functioning in the Logrus but happy. You may not always fully understand everything that he does on your behalf, but I truly believe you to be safe under his wing. All right?”  
  
Sarah nodded with a small smile, looking down at the grass; really, she couldn’t have expected much else, all considering. Still it was vaguely reassuring to hear. She also deftly caught the line of conversation that Sofi had carefully eschewed following: Lord Suhuy might be the less trustworthy of the pair. That one Sarah could actually see: he was at least three times Mandor’s age, much more powerful both in the Courts and in the Logrus, capable of far more subtle forms of magic. In fact, she had all but been warned to watch herself around him by none other than Mandor himself at the very outset; so much had happened since then that she had nearly forgotten all about it. She would have to pay much closer attention to see if anything happened differently depending on who was in the room.  
  
“I shall refrain from asking you to divulge the location you have in mind, but is the view you must capture a natural vista or something more artificial, something architectural perhaps?”  
  
“A long wall – straight, no crenellation, but with obelisks and half-moon divots every few feet; some slight foliage in front and then a lot of built-up structures farther back. Why?”  
  
Sofi began to pace. “I believe your reliance on tracing implements should not hinder you in this as long as your concentration remains uniform, but I am no expert. Forget the grand distant horizon,” she glanced up at Sarah with a conspiratorial glint in her eye. “The wall should be enough if you render it well thus.”  
  
Sarah could’ve hugged her – it was so stupidly obvious! She had been so fixated on that grandiose vista Jareth had bowled her over with initially – the turrets on the Castle Beyond the Goblin City gleaming in the rising sun over the insane complex of the… Fixed Logrus – that she had entirely overlooked just how easy this could really be! Just a length of the outer wall, some scribbled-on thin climbing flowers, maybe the small brackish square pool, make sure she got the coloring right… it might actually work! She would have to do a few mock-ups first to get the size, the composition right.  
  
Sarah had the sense (and the conscience) not to involve the bird any further than she already had and only worked on the project in the privacy of her apartment in the late evenings after her homework was finished, when she was less likely to be interrupted. After three rough sketches, she finally decided on a long-across portrayal rather than tall and thin like the usual trumps and, mustering her nerve, set a tentative date for the attempt - a night Mandor had told her in advance he would not be in attendance for dinner, having been invited to a private party of sorts (which usually meant that she wouldn’t see him until the following ‘morning’.)  
  
Drawing a functional trump was enough of a challenge for an initiate of the true Logrus (or, indeed, the Pattern, where the idea had technically originated – this was the only occult art form that had come to them from the other side; all else of magic Amber ultimately derived from Chaos through Dworkin Barimen) although an old adept like Suhuy could churn out a good one in as little as half-an-hour. In theory, one could be created in any medium – even engraving – but for whatever reason the only ones that remained permanently active had to be painstakingly painted true-to-life. The others could mostly be reused but only for a handful of times by retracing the lines before they stopped responding. Really rough ones might only work once at the time of their immediate creation, and regardless of the quality they had to be completely rendered in one continuous sitting – hence the reason Sarah wanted to ensure that she had plenty of time to work. As little as a single interruption in concentration would ruin it and the averaged time of completion ran a couple hours at least, sometimes longer.  
  
The reason behind this immense level of conscious effort was at once both simple and very, very difficult: each image had to have one of the Powers – the Logrus or the Pattern – carefully inscribed through it to render it functional. The process was allegedly slightly easier to execute using the Pattern since It was a simple, unchanging form, literally burned into the memory of all who walked It. Conversely, drawing one with the Logrus meant that every last line had to be thought of as one of those long, thin tentacles of filament, reaching throughout the entire tableau from a predetermined off-center nexus. The practice was as much a form of ritual meditation as it was an art. Among other more basic concerns of technical ability, for Sarah there was also the inherent danger of the Fixed Logrus - ‘fixed’ stationary filaments that might not only get stuck in place but become sticky like a web – forming a series of completely random built-in traps that the user had to studiously avoid like the plague even if the trump was decently executed otherwise. Sarah hoped that the true Logrus – that black alien amused presence she still felt in the back of her mind – wouldn’t look too unkindly on her gangly effort and would deign to let it work sufficiently at least the once.  
  
Gathering all the materials she could possibly need – including a tall glass of water – Sarah sat down at her worktable; she had tried using it tilted during the sketch phase but quickly decided it was easier for her to work with it flat. Mandor was safely out of the way for the night. Her homework was done. She had all the time in the world to get this right. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, stilling her mind, then summoned forth her memory of the outer wall of the Labyrinth, still slightly in the shade because the sun was just coming up warm on her face – oh, the sun! How long it had been since she’d seen it in truth and not just as a clever radiationless fabrication; her skin had grown very pale in its absence. She opened her eyes and carefully began to draw the base line of the wall with the aid of a thin metal ruler when something started swirling in the very upper corner of her right eye. She looked up at the source and sighed, irritated at being distracted so quickly.  
  
While she had to concede that the large op-art painting in her ‘sitting room’ was a fun way to let her mind drift in the absence of television, its presence was obviously going to prove a nuisance here. But what to do about it? She had no idea how it was mounted and wasn’t about to try to move it herself; it was probably very heavy. Perhaps she could drape something over it for the time being. Rummaging through her closet, Sarah found one of her long black skirts that actually had enough fabric that it might just cover it if she spread it out all the way. Coming back into the main room, she carefully tucked the edges over the top of the painting lengthwise: it was barely long enough but it didn’t look as if it would immediately fall off – good.  
  
Sitting back down, she turned the page to a clean sheet and went through the whole process of starting again. She had made a paper stencil shaped like the obelisks and had her compass set at the precise radius for those half-moon divots; all had been carefully measured to precision in the planning stage. Graded shades of tan, stone gray and khaki slowly began to flow across the heavy-weight paper from right-to-left, the heart of the Logrus concealed in a single while flower blossom on a creeper halfway up the wall in the right-hand corner. Sarah could feel definite resistance at points – the ‘fixed’ parts – and at moments had actual physical trouble just propelling the pencils forward, but she willed her way through them, carefully taking note of where the dangerous areas were. The image was gradually changing, morphing – she could feel it, feel the clean crisp air, smell the dried vegetation. The green pencil nearly seemed to have a mind of its own as the rest of the creepers organically scaled those ancient walls, her speed quickening. The Logrus filaments bent, curved, snaked about each other, shot off in sudden straight lines, beginning to bridge the immense void; two-thirds complete now. On an instinctual impulse she commenced simple shading about the obelisks, finding the task remarkably easy now. The depth perception angling of the square pool was simplicity itself, with pointillistic dots of slightly darker color playing through the alkaline sand –  
  
There was a sudden knock at the door, sharply jarring Sarah out of her reverie.  
  
“Sarah? I know it’s late but are you still decent?”  
  
It was Mandor! There was no time! Sarah hurriedly turned the drawing pad to a different sketch she had attempted a few days ago.  
  
“Yes.” It took considerable effort not to sound disappointed or angry – she’d been so close! Who knew if she could ever do that again? At least she wasn’t having the more severe reaction to the Logrus-working this time. “Come on in,” she said, getting up.  
  
Her guardian opened the door by magic – his hands were full of a large parcel, a box wrapped in colorful paper. The door closed behind him of its own accord. He appeared to be in high spirits and was still dressed resplendently to the nines from wherever he’d been – his normal mode of dress, really (a modernist hybrid of an 18th century formal), just finer fabric and more ornamentation.  
  
“If you could just clear off part of the coffee table for me…”  
  
Sarah quickly complied; whatever it was he had brought in looked more than a little heavy. He carefully set it down, stretching his arms as he sat down on the couch, making himself at home. And suddenly noticed that the painting was covered.  
  
“Was the illusion finally beginning to get too mesmerizing?” he asked a bit sadly. “I can remove it if you wish.”  
  
It was so tempting just to play along at this point but Sarah knew he would quickly figure out that she was lying.  
  
“It was just a little distracting while I was trying to work,” she admitted in all honesty, carefully removing the skirt draped over it, putting it back in her bedroom; at the very least she wasn’t going to have time for a second attempt tonight. “How was the party?” she asked from the other room, quickly trying to change the subject.  
  
Mandor smirked at both courses of action.  
  
As she came back into the room she was just in time to see the end of a Logrus portal: Mandor had a length of thick black cloth in his arms – the same silk velvet as his jacket, actually – which he draped over the arm of the couch.  
  
“So you don’t have to raid your wardrobe in the future,” he gave a small conspiratory smile. “Lady Chanicut is bitter as ever about losing her son during the last wave of succession assassinations but is still in fine health herself; it was a relatively small company for a change. There are certain times I sincerely wish my father was yet living for the sole sake of taking the brunt of being the titular head of Sawall; it’s a nuisance having to put up with certain empty-headed daughters of noblemen with political aspirations, hell-bent on wedding their way higher up the ladder regardless of who they have to latch onto in order to accomplish the feat,” he said, sounding tired. Then quirked a smirk. “But the old game still has a little entertainment value – and we come off rather well-represented. How about you? Have you found some form of amusement this evening?”  
  
Sarah made the terrible mistake of hesitating – and he spotted her drawing pad on the little worktable. Again. He sighed.  
  
“Do us all a favor and pick a different hobby, Sarah; that one has never suited you well. I truly sympathize with your frustration over this, but there comes a time to stop beating one’s head against the proverbial solid wall. Aren’t you even just a little curious as to what I’ve brought you?” his expression lightened as he sat forward, offering her a small pocketknife to open the parcel with.  
  
Sarah had received much from the Chaos Lord’s generosity but relatively few items had overtly been gifts. Taking the knife, she walked around the table and sat down beside him on the small sofa, proceeding to slash through the wrapping paper and the flimsy paperboard box. At first glance at its contents, she could scarcely believe her eyes.  
  
“Is this what I think it is?”  
  
“Probably not entirely as you remember it; strictly mechanical electronic devices simply don’t function out here.” Mandor reached over and turned it on; symphonic music after a fashion began to pour out of the side speakers. “It has no onboard mechanism for playing recorded music, but the tuner is actually linked to a strand of the true Logrus, so chances of you being able to locate a specific style of music are very good. The device also contains a tiny gremlin to keep its more physical components working properly. I have never really been in the habit of listening to music that is not performed live – go ahead, call me old-fashioned – but this was given to me by Merlin many years ago and I just recalled at the party that I had it and I just worked it back up to operational level again tonight; the spells hung on it had gotten too old and needed some adjusting, but the fix should last for a long time. It’s yours if you want it.”  
  
Sarah really didn’t know what to say; now she almost felt a little guilty about going behind his back for a completely new reason. That he’d chosen to come home very early when he hadn’t had to, thinking of her alone and in silence and wanting to help…it almost made her a little misty. She leaned over and hugged him.  
  
“Thank you,” she said quietly.  
  
He briefly returned it; when he pulled back to look at her his expression was that enigmatic satisfaction again.  
  
“That was all – I won’t keep you up late. Lord Suhuy is planning on taking you for another set of excursions in the coming days and from what he’s told me, you’ll need to be well-rested,” he got back up and walked over to the door. “Until morning,” he said without even looking back, opening it.  
  
“Mandor?”  
  
He glanced over his shoulder. “Yes?”  
  
“…thanks. For everything.”  
  
His response was only a teasing lip-smile. “You can thank me by not toying with that contraption all night. Get some sleep.”  
  
And then he was gone.  
  
Sarah exhaled, turning the device back off. It was a small boombox of sorts, albeit one that seemed to only operate via a kind of radio transmission. That alone brought back vivid memories – of them driving through that red desert, mostly hearing radio fuzz and then the few transient alien stations that quickly came and went. He genuinely had peaked her curiosity just now about what could be received here at the edge of existence but it could wait until morning.  
  
And then a very peculiar off-kilter idea suddenly hit her and it was so compelling she just couldn’t shake it: had he talked to Sofi recently? As in, right before he came here? The possible implications were staggering. If he had, she clearly hadn’t mentioned the trump business, but had she mentioned music as a possible distraction? It would certainly explain why he had only remembered the device ‘just now’ after all these months. Perhaps not an entirely altruistic gift, then. Which would also neatly explain his relatively blasé reaction to her rather emotional one; it was not an emotionally motivated choice at all on his behalf.  
  
Sarah leaned back on the couch, closing her eyes, as the truth sank in. That staging had been absolutely flawless, completely taking her in, engaging her on a very personal level. Viewed this way in retrospect, it was almost the tiniest but scary that he could… well, perhaps ‘manipulate’ was too strong a word… so thoroughly understand how she operated, what made her tick, what she wanted, that he could play right into it. She opened her eyes again and glanced over at the abandoned drawing tablet with the half-finished defunct trump hidden inside; she needed to burn the roughs before they were discovered. His tack had certainly worked this time; she had nearly forgotten that thing - even in spite of her anger at being interrupted - in under five minutes flat!  
  
It had been such a comfortingly nice delusion, though, she reflected sadly, one that had been thoughtfully crafted for the maximum joy of the recipient. _He wants you to be happy_ , Sofi’s words echoed in her memory. Quite a lot of the things that he did for her – both real and illusory - were technically totally unnecessary. Perhaps in his own way he did.  
  
But to what end purpose? If there was ever a time she needed to talk to Hoggle, this was it. That hapless dwarf had been dealing with the Goblin King for goodness knows how long; if anyone understood how to deal with convoluted psychology, it was him.  
  
Which meant that she needed to reschedule the trump attempt. But when? It had been uncanny how Mandor had just shown up unannounced like that. It almost looked like he had been warned somehow without any further information to go on. Was that even possible? Would it ever be safe to try? She honestly didn’t know. Clearly it was time to fall back and regroup.  
  
The following days brought many lengthy excursions with Lord Suhuy into shadows he had constructed himself – mental, emotional, and psychological obstacle courses, as it were.  
  
“In the choosing of one Power, you must be prepared to deal with the displeasure of the Other,” he had told her, explaining that while any outcomes that affected these environments and their tentatively conscious inhabitants didn’t matter at all in the cosmic sense, her practice in dealing with them in a large variety of ways would immensely advance her abilities as a functional Logrus initiate. She had ceased worrying about what was ‘real’ ages ago but these pocket universes felt particularly artificial. In fact, it felt rather like a virtual reality action/adventure videogame: she altered landscapes, shifted to nearby shadows, covertly listened in on people, even practiced self-defense and single-handedly managed to dispatch a couple faux manticora (which felt really, really gratifying.) Invisibility still gave her trouble but she could manage an almost chameleonic effect to blend into her surroundings using the cloaking spell she already knew.  
  
But the most notable change that was happening was so subtle she didn’t even consciously notice it: the ‘positive’ aspects of the Chaosian paradigm were gradually being reinforced in her psyche, to the point that certain nuances native to Order were actually starting to annoy her a little. Mutability was good; the flow and progressions were beginning to feel slightly more natural. Even the cold amusement of the Logrus Herself had ceased to bother her; the impersonal imperfection of this particular ‘higher power’ had become oddly comforting in a way she wouldn’t ever openly admit to, although she was fairly certain that at least Suhuy suspected as much, for he kept adding more arcane challenges to the shadows. Her personal reactions to the nuts-and-bolts use of the Logrus power still varied but she was gradually getting better at psychologically coping with some of the lesser side-effects, and some of her general abilities were finally showing slight improvements here and there.  
  
The upshot of all of this, however, was that she was busier than ever; the previous relative lull in her workload almost looked like summer vacation by comparison. There was simply no time to even toy with the idea of the trump now; she was carefully being kept well occupied. Regardless of the initial motive behind the ‘gift’, the boombox was a welcome distraction at this point; Sarah had nearly forgotten how much she had missed listening to music, especially while she was working on her homework. It took nearly two weeks for her to finally notice, though: she just happened to be up getting a book from the coffee table and was just in time to see a tiny green gremlin about the size of a mouse climb out of the back control panel, silently do an odd little ‘rain-dance’ for a few seconds, then climb back inside, quietly clicking the panel compartment closed behind it! It was weird, disturbing, and bizarrely cute all at the same time! She briefly wondered what it was living on in there but decided she’d rather not know. She was careful not to leave the device on longer than an hour or two at a time afterward; whatever it was doing in there, she didn’t want to needlessly exhaust the little creature. Nevertheless, she completely failed to notice that the act of anything performing such concentrated labor for something so trivial didn’t even faze her now – the idea alone had once been highly repugnant to her.  
  
Once of an early evening she was reading a novel in the library, seated at her place at the long table, awaiting Mandor’s regular appearance (he was due with dinner any time now), only to see him burst into the room in an obvious hurry, dressed in a high fashion she had never seen him in before: a long regency-style dinner jacket in a lavish royal-blue-and-black damask – Sawall colors! – with diamond-encrusted buttons, cufflinks, and an elaborately jeweled neckpin in the silk cravat. The ensemble was almost eerily familiar…  
  
Mandor caught her expression with a note of amusement upon reaching her. “The blue over-accentuates my white hair, makes me look older, right? I’ve heard that before,” he lightly teased; she was still staring.  
  
Sarah blinked. “No, not at all! I’m just not used to seeing you wear any color.” She gave him a quick once-over. “Looks good on you, actually. What’s the occasion?”  
  
Dinner for one instantly appeared before her on the table: a kind of herb-crusted fish tonight with a spicy vegetable mélange that was like a cross between a ‘salad’ and a chutney, butter rolls on the side, even a thin slice of a berry-truffle torte for dessert. In spite of the lavish evasive maneuver, she well-noted that he had done it at that precise moment to deliberately break eye contact.  
  
“An extremely important foreign ambassador has unexpectedly arrived early – they have traveled a considerable distance just to be here – and I will be very busy tonight. In fact, I will be incommunicado; in the event of an emergency you will have to try to contact Lord Suhuy.” He glanced her way again, his expression a little more calm and collected now. “You’ll have to find something quiet to amuse yourself this evening – I will be entertaining them at Mandorways, and even though these walls are solid they’re still relatively thin. My guest cannot be made aware of your presence but I should have no trouble in keeping them out of the library. I shall see you at breakfast tomorrow.” He looked up a moment in thought. “No, better make that a late lunch.” A covered tray appeared behind her dinner dishes. “Don’t even lift the lid to peek until you are ready to eat it in the morning; keeping it closed will not only keep the contents fresh but at the correct temperatures,” he said, commencing the long walk back to the front door with no further explanation. Sarah followed after him, genuinely intrigued.  
  
“Do I still have classes tomorrow, then?”  
  
“Yes, of course,” he answered her a bit abruptly; he had just quietly murmured ‘am I forgetting anything?’ to himself only a moment before.  
  
Sarah had never seen him so distracted. Something terribly important had to be going down to rattle his usually flawless demeanor like this!  
  
“Mandor, what’s going on?” she asked him bluntly just as he went to open the door.  
  
He stopped and slowly looked over his shoulder.  
  
“In your vernacular? I have a hot date,” he grinned crookedly, unable to further conceal the devilish spark of delight in his alien eyes. “Be good,” he winked at her, “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”  
  
And with that he darted out the door so fast that even if Sarah hadn’t been stunned silent she still wouldn’t have had time to say ‘goodnight’!  
  
She just stood there for a couple seconds, eyes wide – then spontaneously burst into laughter, her hands covering her mouth as she did her best to stifle the sound. As the initial shock wore off, several emotions hit her at once; thankfully jealousy was not among them. At least not that kind. But still…  
  
_Of all the crazy stunts_ , she thought, shaking her head with a smile, still quietly chuckling to herself at the memory of seeing him so flustered like that, as she walked back over to the table and her meal.  
  
And suddenly some synapse of her brain remembered from biology class that native Chaosians sometimes involuntarily morphed into their power-forms during intimacy, and the unbidden mental image of that gigantic silver gorilla with extra appendages having sweaty jungle times with only powers-knew-what – probably a female that more resembled Godzilla – suddenly occurred to her and she did a full-body-shiver, her face beet-red! _Okay, now there’s a visual I’m never going to be ready to deal with_ , she thought, falling into her chair at the table. “There went my appetite,” she said to no one with a sigh, pushing back her plate.  
  
But, really, she should’ve known by now from experience that that final sentiment wasn’t going to stick in the wake of Mandor’s impeccable cuisine; in spite of her current revulsion the scent alone was enough to tempt her fork. Dinner was fabulous as ever and he had her portion preferences and nutritional needs down to a science. The meal was nearly enough of a sensory distraction that she didn’t think of much else until she was carefully scraping the last fudgy crumbs of torte off of her dessert place.  
  
And then the implications of her current situation finally hit her with full force and she tore off to her own apartment! She had not only sufficient time but guaranteed privacy! She seriously doubted that he would be monitoring her in any manner at all if he was about to be that distracted! Her hands almost shaking from the excitement, Sarah rushed to get out her drawing supplies and covered the painting with the makeshift black curtain he had ironically provided, rapidly setting up, sitting down at her workspace. She had even had the foresight to make sure her deck of perfect trumps was on her person in case of an emergency. She had just focused her thoughts and commenced drawing the preliminary wall lines when suddenly she got the weird feeling of being watched – not remotely, but right here – and she turned around…  
  
There was no one else in the room. It was impossible. She was totally alone.  
  
It was then that she spotted two tiny mouse-like black eyes peering at her through the right speaker of the boombox; they vanished just a split-second later.  
  
_And that explains the rest of it_ , she thought a bit irritatedly as she packed up her supplies – her eyes never leaving the infernal device and its inhabitant – and moved the whole operation to her bedroom where she would have a little more privacy…  
  
Then thought better of it and headed to the bathroom, telling her vanity bench to blockade the door after her and to knock against it if it sensed anything coming. Closing and locking it, she heard the piece of furniture scoot into position. Now, then…  
  
The tiled bathroom floor wasn’t exactly comfortable and she had never tried to draw anything in here but she really didn’t have much of a choice. There was a first time for everything. Kneeling on a small black rug on the white tiles, she got to work. The basic composition came together relatively quickly this time; that many preliminary studies had obviously been more helpful than she had realized. The muted earth-tones gradually flowed across the piece, then the shading, then the details of the masonry, individual stalks of plant material added with a natural spontaneity. She lost all track of time – all that mattered was the lines, the colors, and that which underlay them. There were still difficult sections but markedly less of them this time. Sarah’s heart rate had increased; it was suddenly a physical struggle toward the end. For one terrifying moment her drawing arm was literally frozen in place but she mentally used a few functional Logrus tentacles to free herself…  
  
_… There!_ Just a few more quick brushes, a handful of the meaningless little details that make up a world-  
  
She suddenly stopped. It was complete; she just instinctively knew. She put down the pencil in her hand and touched the paper – it was trump cold! Tearing the sheet off the main tablet, she lifted the drawing to eyelevel and focused. It took more concentration to activate than the trumps she was used to dealing with by now, but after several minutes she saw the dried grasses faintly stir in a gentle breeze, the image suddenly going live. Tiny fairies flitted by.  
  
The feeling of the physical presence of that particular iteration of the Logrus was simply overwhelming now that she was attuned and could readily identify it; before, it had only been a vague sense of constant foreboding, which she had written off as the natural emotion one experiences when one enters a mythical being’s private sadistic playground. That Fixed Logrus was regarding her as well with a dark interest. Doing her best to ignore Her, she called out quietly, as loudly as she dared under the circumstances.  
  
“Hoggle? Hoggle, are you there? It’s me, Sarah!” she called in English. “I swear this isn’t a trick, please don’t be afraid! If you can hear my voice, just walk over by the square pool and look up – you should be able to see me.”  
  
Nothing. She waited about thirty seconds, starting to feel the exertion from keeping the portal open like this. She would try again.  
  
“Hoggle?” she called a little more tentatively.  
  
To her abject shock and surprise, a human-sized black-gloved hand shot straight through the drawing, grabbed her tightly by the forearm and bodily hauled her through the trump!  
  
The piece of paper deactivated as it floated to the cold tile floor…  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
(Incidental music: Trash80, 'Impact of Silence')


	8. The Sword Cuts Itself

Chapter 8 – The Sword Cuts Itself  
  
“Well, well, well, look what the raptor dragged in.”  
  
Sarah registered the familiarity of the cultured male voice as the shock of being forcibly hauled through into a drastically different dimension wore off, and with a start she suddenly realized what had actually just happened. And who was addressing her…  
  
“Sorry, wrong number,” she managed to answer the Goblin King coolly without her voice shaking as she went to retrieve her deck of trumps from her pouch, wrenching her right arm free of his grasp. It would be a heck of a jump to get back but maybe she could make it if she leap-frogged through a couple of other shadows first.  
  
“Excuse me, _what_ did you just say?”  
  
It was not until this very moment that Sarah finally noticed that he had been speaking to her in English – and she had been replying in High Chaosian Thari! It took her a moment to find the correct words; her native tongue felt almost a bit foreign from total absence of use.  
  
“I said I hadn’t meant to come through like this, your Majesty,” she practically threw the title at him, “I was just trying to contact-”  
  
“Hogsbreath?” he rudely interrupted. “Yes, I know, I heard your inept calling just now. I had him…relocated further in so he has fewer opportunities to be a nuisance. I do not tolerate unwanted parties infringing in any way, shape or form on my private domain,” he uttered darkly. Then took a deliberate step back, brazenly raked her form with his eyes, and gave a scoff of a laugh. “I see they wasted no time in recruiting you,” he taunted her in flawless Chaosian Thari, “the House of Hendrake, correct? Trying to make you over into a little hellmaid, are they? I seriously doubt that even you are athletic enough to make that cut.”  
  
The sound of the language, familiar as it was to her ears by now, coming from that golden throat nearly left Sarah’s brain in a lurch! She quickly recovered herself though, the leather pouch of cards now in hand, giving her confidence.  
  
“Nope – Sawall,” she continued in English, not certain of the depth of his vocabulary in Thari. “Not that it’s any of your business,” she muttered, doing her best to ignore him as she rapidly picked out a trump of one of the practice shadows she was allowed to go to and began to concentrate…  
  
Both of her hands were suddenly empty – the trumps were gone!  
  
“Mandor,” he growled out of gritted teeth.  
  
“Hey! You don’t want me here, I don’t want me here - give those back! I was trying to leave-”  
  
“Not so fast,” he calmly countered, looking almost amused.  
  
He really was an arrogant bastard, Sarah reflected as he began to stalk around her, examining her much more closely than she was comfortable with, as if he was actually looking for something. She suddenly wondered how her Logrus power would react with its originator so close-by - literally just on the other side of the wall not ten feet away - then thought better of it, remembering Mandor’s warning about Jareth’s extreme level of power on his home turf. Besides, the jerk had just lifted her entire trump deck; she had to get it back and she had the distinct sinking feeling that that might never happen at all if she truly succeeded in pissing him off.  
  
The Goblin King suddenly stopped in his tracks and lifted her left hand for inspection; she swiftly pulled it out of his grasp but not before his peculiar eyes lit up at what he saw there. He chuckled low in his register and his knowing expression made her decidedly uneasy.  
  
“So, the old devil’s gotten his claws into you already,” he quipped. “And you still defend him.” He just shook his head with a cold, sharp smile.  
  
“What exactly are you implying?” Sarah crossed her arms. She wasn’t sure what game Jareth was playing at but she didn’t care for it at all.  
  
“Have you ever even tried to take off that ring your precious benefactor has seen fit to bestow upon you?”  
  
“No, of course not! I’m wearing it for a reason!”  
  
“You’re wearing it because it’s a tracking device,” he answered flatly with a note of honesty, “and I for one would be extremely surprised if that’s all it’s doing. Try and remove it.”  
  
“Oh, yeah, right, so you can steal this, too!”  
  
“I swear I don’t want it, Sarah.” He was deadly serious, all teasing gone. “Just humor me.”  
  
For one moment Sarah’s confidence faltered – oh, this was insane! But if a test was what it would take to satisfy Jareth’s petty paranoid queries so she could get on down the road… She went to take hold of the ring, but as she did so feelings of warmth and security took her brain by storm…  
  
And it suddenly dawned on her that she couldn’t even touch it! Before the shock fully registered, Jareth stepped forward, grabbed her hand and gingerly yanked the thing off himself!  
  
The change was as drastic as it was immediate: the full psychological and emotional brunt of everything that had been happening to her, everything she had been subjected to over the past few months, just popped up to the surface and she instantly screamed in abject terror, her knees nearly buckling as her body threatened to collapse. Jareth looked thoroughly disgusted as he roughly forced the ring back on over the knuckle.  
  
“Ow!” Sarah protested. And noted that she was now eerily calm and happy once more. “Oh my gosh,” she breathed, wide-eyed, covering her mouth with her hands.  
  
The Goblin King nodded grimly with a slight smirk. “You certainly aren’t the first person he’s tricked into servitude in this manner and it’s highly unlikely that you will be the last. I just wanted you to see that, to know,” he held out her trump deck for her; she cautiously took it from him. The set of magical artifacts made her unaccountably nervous now. She glanced up at him, her eyes full of questions.  
  
His teasing expression returned. “Let me give you one free piece of advice, little girl: trust no one. Present company excluded, of course,” he smiled sardonically, elegantly gesturing to himself. He suddenly stopped as if remembering something, his bright eyebrows raised in slight surprise. “Actually, I take that back – come to think of it, there is one idealistic fool out on your end of the spectrum who might be worth trusting if you can ever manage to get him on your side, a regular knight-in-shining-armor type,” he uttered as if the very notion made him sick; he proceeded to follow this statement with a few rudely immature gagging gestures and accompanying sound effects.  
  
Sarah rolled her eyes; considering some of the obstacles she had seen that appeared to be his level of ‘taste’, the behavior really wasn’t that surprising. “And who exactly would this be?” she asked, as if the information couldn’t mean less to her, hands on her hips. It couldn’t hurt her to have a few decent contacts. She had often rued the fact that she knew virtually no one out here; maybe there was the vague chance that this interview wasn’t going to be so pointless after all.  
  
Jareth hesitated and smiled again, more serious this time. “Lesson #2: good information is always intrinsically valuable,” he subconsciously fidgeted with a glove. “If I divulge this, I will be in an ideal position to ask for something from you that I desire,” he purred menacingly, advancing on her.  
  
Sarah could just barely manage to keep thinking and hold her ground. “If you actually think I’m going to sleep with you just to get somebody’s name, you’re crazier than I thought!”  
  
He suddenly barked a sharp little laugh. “Why would I ever want a snotty little snip of a girl like you for a bed-partner? Dream on, child.” He strode right on past her as she gaped – it was totally nuts, but she felt insulted! “No, I’m afraid what I would require of you is far more valuable than a mere fleeting joyride, and as unbelievable as it is to me, you are in all likelihood the only person in the worlds who might even consider helping me.” He gave a deep sigh, suddenly sounding very tired. Very old. “I’ve come to loathe this shadow, what little of it there is. I’ve become the bloody genie of the lamp!” he suddenly exclaimed, making her jump slightly. “What good is all the power in the world when I can’t even go anywhere to use it? I was better off before! I long to roam Shadow with my so-called ‘betters’ - I’ve earned the right a million times over, damn it! No son of Chaos has ever walked any version of the Logrus as I have, as I do - continuously – without ever reaping the true benefit!”  
  
There was a distinct note of real desperation in his voice. Sarah turned to look at him; his eyes were wild.  
  
“I’ll be trapped here in his hell forever without someone’s help,” he hoarsely whispered. “No matter how it appears on the surface, we’re both prisoners, Sarah. The personage in question has the power to free us!”  
  
Sarah considered him very cautiously, feeling much more rational again, thanks to the ring. She had to warily admit that until he had just now pointed it out to her she had actually forgotten that she was even wearing the thing, but…  
  
“So far all you’ve really proven is that I’ll probably suffer a nervous breakdown in the absence of a piece of magically charged jewelry,” she answered him carefully – and suddenly remembered her brooch still sitting on her nightstand and nearly slapped herself for not wearing it! _Oh well, two out of three_ , she thought, still grasping the smooth black leather of the card pouch. “If you want me to actually believe you – not that I don’t entirely – I’m going to need more concrete information to go on. Let’s say I hypothetically buy this idea that you’re trying to sell me. How would it even work? Surely the Fixed Logrus that’s literally sitting within earshot of your deprecations is going to fight you on this one,” she glanced momentarily at the wall.  
  
Jareth smiled bitterly, crossing his arms. “Cruel but very true, child. And the Pattern of Amber wouldn’t dare to manifest here, let alone work via proxy; the very ground we’re standing upon is an anathema to it. However, there is a third option, one I doubt you have even been told of: the Second Pattern, an island of Order deep in the fields of Chaos, drawn relatively recently by a Prince of Amber in a time of great cosmic reckoning, albeit prematurely and out of panic. Neither Power knows what to do with it; it stands in opposition to both! It is enough like the True Pattern that it reviles the Logrus – the black coils of the Serpent have already tried to shake its foundations once and failed – and the True Pattern views it as a direct rival to its own supremacy of Order and also wishes to undo it. The prince is gone, vanished – most likely lost in the new universes of his own creation – but the Second Pattern itself has generated an artifact of him, a sort of a ghost – you have heard of these?” he interrupted himself.  
  
Sarah nodded, all ears. She had learned that both of the true Powers were capable of creating temporary point-in-time copies of anyone who had ever traversed them – all their experiences, memories, and abilities at the time of trial manifested in the physical world with a believable semblance of a solid body. They were an affront to reality.  
Or, rather, they were part of a still deeper version that she had a terrible time wrapping her mind around and usually just tried not to think about.  
  
“Initially it was formed to guard the Second Pattern against outside threats,” the king continued his narrative, “but according to my sources he no longer there. In fact, he may be in a bit of trouble himself and would be…shall we say, grateful to any who would assist him. On my own I cannot. His original, while almost virtuous for the House of Amber, would never trust any shadow-being even vaguely in league with Chaos, but his ghost might be more inclined to be sympathetic to your cause, if not mine. And, by virtue of what he is, he has a direct link back to that Pattern. If I could walk it successfully, the Logrus could no longer hold me here. I would be free! But in this matter I cannot act directly for myself. It would be in your hands to tell him of me, that I told you to rescue him. You do so enjoy being the hero, Sarah,” he smirked.  
  
Sarah just stared at him. “In exchange for the same.”  
  
“Well, yes, that was the general idea.”  
  
Sarah was still extremely dubious of the whole plan, including most of the potential results. “How do I know you’re not going to just run amuck in the outside world as soon as you’re out of here?”  
  
Jareth shrugged. “You don’t. But considering the caliber of almighty assholes you’re casually dealing with on a daily basis, a shadow like me is the least of your problems; I can arrange to be. What do you say?” he smiled again persuasively.  
  
Sarah eyed the sandy ground, seriously considered the matter. As far as propositions went, this one was rather sketchy at best and pretty darn risky at worst. But, as he had unknowingly reminded her, Jareth was virtually powerless outside of this shadow – a crucial fact that he was totally unaware that she knew – and she had power, a kind she could use wherever she wished. It did seem odd, now that she thought about it. Must’ve had to do with the fact that he had been something of an unwelcome, power-hungry interloper that the Logrus had felt the need to keep under Her black thumb, as it were. And who knew whether this Second Pattern he had been rambling on about would accept him at all, let alone let him survive the trial. Sarah was genuinely surprised that she found the thought mildly amusing. _Definitely been living in Chaos too long_ , she soberly reflected. And if he became a nuisance in the meantime, she could deal with him herself. Whether he made it or not on his own crazy, self-destructive quest afterwards was technically none of her concern. Whoever this prince-guy was, she got first crack at him; Jareth could practically be an afterthought. All she had to do was mention him – and she could give the ghost plenty of warning. The information was worth it. She glanced back up at him with hardened purpose.  
  
“Deal. Who’s the guy?”  
  
The Goblin King formed one of his signature crystals and lightly tossed it to her; she caught it easily. “See for yourself. His name is Corwin Barimen but remember it is the fabrication you seek, not the original.”  
  
Sarah could barely make out the man’s features it was so dark wherever he was – was that a grimy stone wall in the background? There was no window, no light source of any kind; the crystal alone had to be making this visible. The fact that the man she was looking at wasn’t real was clear enough: in spite of his seeming predicament, his features were not only clean-shaven but actually clean! He suddenly seemed to sense that he was being watched and turned to look in the direction of the scry. Sarah instantly felt sorry for him: he had distinctly mouthed the word ‘Corwin’, almost as if he thought his original was trying to communicate with him via trump. The more she thought about it, the whole thing was just too strange – how was he still alive so cut off from his progenitor power? More to the point, how did Jareth even know about any of this?! Was he really that powerful here? Granted he did appear to have nothing but time on his hands, but still…  
  
The king took the crystal back, extinguishing it. “I’ve no idea where that was precisely, but I can tell you with certainty that the true Logrus is very close to wherever that cell is - I can feel it. I believe he is currently being held captive within the system of connected Ways of the Courts of Chaos itself, possibly standing in for his original, whom I wouldn’t dare look in on in that cavalier of a fashion.”  
  
Sarah exhaled and nodded. “Well, it’s a long-shot, but I’ll keep my eyes peeled for him and do my best to listen around, for his sake at least if not for yours, and if I do ever run into him I’ll make sure to bring up your name and location. Is that good enough for you?”  
  
Jareth sighed, crossing his arms again. “I suppose it will have to be.” He scrutinized her eyes for a moment with an emotion that didn’t quite wash as personal concern but could have been on anyone else, an expression that oddly reminded Sarah of Mandor. “I know you either don’t or can’t believe me – perhaps he’s already gotten too far into your head, he’s good at that – but you must know that Mandor Sawall is manipulating you to his own selfish ends with no thought for what may become of you, just as lords of Chaos and Amber have manipulated shadow-people for hundreds of thousands of years. And no matter what sweet lies he’s spoon-fed you, don’t for a moment think you’re so precious to him that he wouldn’t hesitate to dispose of you somehow if retaining you is no longer of direct benefit to him. I’m serious.”  
  
Sarah nearly laughed at his sudden dire warning. “If you can understand the axiom, your Majesty,” she addressed him without the usual scorn, “isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? It just strikes me as almost comically odd seeing you even vaguely concerned about me like this, especially when you are so obviously considering a similar course of action yourself.”  
  
Jareth gave the slightest of shrugs, just a brief tilt of the head. “I can’t be better than my original, more’s the pity. At least I’m not above admitting it to your face.”  
  
Sarah blinked – she’d never thought of that!  
  
His wicked grin returned. “And it gives me great pleasure to be able to bring discord directly under his long, aristocratic nose if and when I can for what he’s done to me in trapping me here. In any event, you’re going to be used badly, little girl - that much is inevitable at this point – but don’t allow yourself to be used blindly. Now, you’d best run along home before your dear guardian starts wondering where his favorite little pet human has wandered off to and decides to check his end of the tracking device,” he teasingly reprimanded her.  
  
Sarah’s eyes widened in panic: she’d completely forgotten the immense time-difference; it might be too late already! Rapidly shuffling out her trumps, she wasn’t certain she even had enough time for the graded shadow-jumps she had planned on initially. She had technically made it here in one (albeit with unwanted ‘help’) but the odds weren’t good for doing the same in reverse on her own even with the decently made trumps, but she had to try. With trepidation, she pulled out the Library trump and started to concentrate.  
  
“Allow me,” the Goblin King placed a hand on her right shoulder, adding his immense power to the gateway; it instantly flared to life. As she ran through the portal, she heard him call out, “I don’t want to see you here ever again unless you have him in tow!” before it closed. Somehow she didn’t think he was speaking of Mandor.  
  
_Mandor! Suhuy! Shit, what time is it?_ Thankfully neither of them were present, but the library was awash with light, the artificial sun up and climbing – it was late morning already! At least twelve hours had passed here during that ill-fated five-minute conversation – yikes! Glad that Mandor wasn’t here to see this, Sarah wolfed down her breakfast (chiefly a fluffy Florentine omelet, but who had time to care?), raced to her room, changed her clothes, quickly spruced her toilette, and ran back out the door literally seconds before Suhuy walked into the library for her morning lessons, demon-formed! She inwardly sagged: this was going to be a really, really long day. At the very least from her body’s point-of-view the exercise would be welcome; she had just been forced to polish off two sizable meals in only three hours. It would have been too suspicious to have leftovers (there were never any) and while she was getting better at opening those small Logrus portals, she still didn’t quite have the knack for controlling where they went, which made the prospect of any sort of disposal a little too exciting for her taste. It had been bad enough having to break into her own bathroom from the outside – the door had still been locked from the previous evening!  
  
She and her tutor set out almost immediately, not even a preliminary lesson; whatever the day’s itinerary was, it was obviously going to take a significant amount of time. Sarah had grown rather used to these sorts of daytrips by now and initially thought little of the variation but upon seeing their destination she was rather glad she’d had that extra cup of tea: it was this side of a humanoid steeplechase course! The world they had come into was yet another of Suhuy’s practice shadows, this one designed literally from the ground up to sharpen both her wits and her reaction time. Short, grey-shrouded servants handed her a full-body black unitard and thin but sturdy boots, and she was informed that this battery course would be replacing precisely half of her fencing lessons from now on, to be embarked upon first thing in the morning three days a week. As she rapidly shot through a seemingly endless variety of obstacles both physical and mental, Sarah briefly reflected that her tutoring was shifting noticeably from an esoteric Honors Society curriculum to a bizarrely cerebral basic training of sorts. By the end of the session, she wouldn’t have been at all surprised to hear Lord Suhuy tell her to drop and give him Nietzsche’s theory on the nature of the superman! After being allowed to sort of clean up (a weird, alien procedure that literally sucked the oil and sweat right off her suited-up body in seconds) she was rather surprised to learn that she had been out in the course for four linear hours; the span had felt significantly shorter, maybe twenty minutes – a positive sign that the Logrus was better assimilating into her, forcing her static form to flow, granting her unnatural speed and enhanced dexterity of body and mind. Taking on the next shadow – one they had been using regularly for some time now as a ‘real world’ danger simulator – it was clear to Suhuy that some of her personal reactions were growing steadily colder, more detached, as they had to be for her to be a successful Chaos agent.  
  
It wasn’t until she was in her rooms changing back into her regular clothes just minutes before the promised ‘late lunch’ that Sarah belatedly remembered the screaming child – had it been injured? She had simply flown by without so much as a glance or a single thought of concern. That alone should have been frighteningly sobering and yet she was appalled to find that she was barely fazed by the brief flash of memory.  
  
_The ring. It has to be the ring._ The Goblin King’s warning – dubiously biased as it undoubtedly was – quietly gnawed at the back of her mind as her stomach gnawed at her while she sat at the table glancing through a relatively easy book, awaiting Mandor. It had taken several hours but she was finally beginning to feel the fatigue of eight-hours-worth of sleep deficiency starting in about half-an-hour ago and was practically praying that he wouldn’t notice in spite of the light circles starting to form under her eyes and the fact that she had to keep stifling yawns.  
  
Her guardian casually breezed into the room soon enough (just as soon as Suhuy had ostensibly retired to go attend to something else), as mild-mannered and genteel as ever but – to the trained eye – in just a little too good of a mood.  
  
“Ah, Sarah!” he hailed her as he commenced crossing the room, “I sincerely hope you have not been waiting there long. I’m sorry that Lord Suhuy is intent on running you ragged, but he seems to believe a more varied level of physical activity will be beneficial to your overall learning process here and I am not about to question his methods; apparently he’s done this before,” he said, seating himself in his usual spot at the table; a split-second later their meal arrived. Sarah was surprised to see that the protein du jour was a cut of game meat – something Mandor never served before dinner.  
  
“You looked as if you might be in need of a little more iron,” he observed. Then stopped to examine her face a bit more carefully. “Or perhaps the proverbial harmless little rodent was having a bit of fun in the guaranteed absence of her usual predator last night?”  
  
Sarah reflexively glanced up at him, fork frozen in mid-stab. If he had truly figured this one out this fast she was about to be in hot water up to her eyeballs!  
  
His young ward’s instinctive panic spoke volumes, but, to her obvious profound relief, he looked more amused at the wordless confession than irritated, commencing his own meal.  
  
“I suppose your age has to be taken into consideration,” he sighed with a frowning smirk. “You’ve been very good and cooperative with us on the whole up to this point. When we’re finished here, go ahead and take a nap; I will allow you to make up for your absence this afternoon with an extra credit essay of Lord Suhuy’s choice, to be turned in first thing tomorrow morning.” He looked up at her again for emphasis, a little sterner. “Just don’t make a habit of this.”  
  
“Of course not!” she immediately blurted, almost fast enough to raise Mandor’s suspicions as to what she had really been up to, but he ruefully reflected that he’d rather not go into the details of his own ‘night off’.  
  
“So,” Sarah began awkwardly, barely believing her luck as she speared half a roasted Brussels sprout with garlic, “did your… meeting with the foreign ambassador go well?”  
  
Mandor didn’t answer right away; Sarah glanced over at him and caught the tail-end of one of his fleeting, secretive little smiles.  
  
“Let’s just say that none of us rested well last night; I merely hide physical fatigue better than you do.”  
  
Unbidden, the blood rushed to Sarah’s face again as she remembered her reaction upon putting that freaky two-and-two together the previous evening.  
  
Mandor’s expressing immediately changed to one of profuse apology. “Forgive my blunt joking, Sarah – as I said only moments ago, I must keep in mind your relative youth and inexperience.”  
  
“I’m not totally ignorant!” Sarah suddenly protested, still beet-red and unable to look him in the eye, “it’s just…how you…”  
  
“It is alien to you,” he nodded in understanding. “Can’t deny that. Well, if you ever actually feel up to hearing my version of ‘the talk’ – or anything else for that matter – I’m always right here for you, Sarah. But unless you bring up the subject again personally, I will refrain entirely from speaking of it in your presence. Is that all right?”  
  
Sarah nodded, feeling stupid but grateful. _He really is a halfway-decent father-figure_ , she thought with just a touch of admiration.  
  
“Good,” he pronounced quietly, deliberately ignoring her fading, childlike blush. “I’m rather more interested in hearing about where you were today. Lord Suhuy is famous for his built-from-scratch shadows but he gets rather protective of his more temporary environments; he hasn’t so much as allowed me to set foot in any of your practice shadows. I have to admit to being a little curious: what does the new one look like?”  
  
It was a rather obvious topic change but Sarah obliged him, describing the colorings and the landscapes, fake animals and people-ish constructs that never really acted fully conscious, as if they had no will outside of Lord Suhuy’s. Periodically Mandor would suddenly nod as if in understanding, but he made no meaningful verbal comments beyond gently prodding her to continue. After a while, Sarah more than half-wondered if she should’ve been telling him any of this at all if Suhuy didn’t even deem to, but one thing was dead-certain at this point: one way or another, she had to keep Mandor on her side if she was going to have any real security out here.  
  
At least for now…  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Hours later on her private shadow, Sarah slowly awoke to bliss, lying on the special grass in the soft, dappled light of the lavender moon. She stretched, feeling worlds better – all of her problems seemed a lifetime away – when the suspicious thoughts of the ring popped into her mind again completely unbidden, out-of-the-blue, like the mental equivalent of an itch from a mosquito bite. Reluctantly rolling off the gently undulating patch and sitting up, Sarah tried to just touch it with her pointer finger and quickly discovered that she couldn’t even do that; feelings of warmth and being cared for just wrapped about her like a thick, fluffy blanket. She nearly succumbed to the powerful urge to just lie down and go back to sleep and wound up having to use the Logrus to shove the persuasion away, which left her feeling just a tad jittery but clear-headed and fully alert.  
  
Then the answer hit her: she couldn’t touch this thing, but the Logrus could! Very, very carefully, she summoned it again, willing those thin, ink-black tendrils to manifest in the real world and encase her right hand like a gauntlet. She swallowed against the visceral feeling of Her presence and begged the tendrils coming from each fingertip to lengthen, to become very fine, firm but flexible and soft. Taking a deep breath, bracing herself for what was almost inevitably going to happen if she was even moderately successful, Sarah got those hair-like filaments wedged under the ring, then delicately hooked around it on all sides. She felt no different but, to be fair, it was more that a little hard to tell with the Logrus practically on top of her like that; even bespelled, She always made her instinctively nervous. With painful slowness, Sarah commenced to prise the ring off, stopping after she cleared the first knuckle. She was already beginning to feel a bit panicky, her breathing and heart rate had noticeably speeded up, but on the whole she remained incongruously happy. After sitting like this for about a minute, she realized that the panic was actually beginning to subside just a little bit and she decided to try for the second knuckle. This time the effects were much more obvious and immediate – she had to grit her teeth to keep from screaming – but she gutted it out, forcing herself to count the seconds. It might have just been the adrenaline pouring into her veins but she felt far more alert and aware. And, in spite of the almost overwhelming black terror, she remained bizarrely joyful for no reason at all! The feeling was rather disturbing; perhaps without occult mediation she was truly going insane. But she honestly didn’t think so; too many of her mental faculties appeared to be completely untouched by this. Something felt very strange here and she was dead certain it wasn’t her. The ring wasn’t entirely off – it hovered around the tip of her finger – but the reaction was bad enough that she knew she had to stop right where she was. But the condition was just barely tolerable.  
  
She quickly slid it back into place and banished the Logrus, collapsing back into the waving leaves of grass, panting in relief. Okay, so it was bad, but not as bad as it had been the first time. Sarah began to suspect that at least part of the extremity of the initial reaction had been due to the fact that she was experiencing months’ worth of outrageous trauma all at once; the device had managed to suppress the worst of her natural reactions completely. She knew the situation reminded her of something but she just couldn’t for the life of her think straight lying where she was – and for the first time realized it was happening! Sitting back up, the memory flooded back immediately: it was like trying to open a soda-bottle that had been badly shaken up. Doing it all at once would make the whole thing explode but doing it in tiny increments at reasonably spaced intervals would release the accumulated pressure safely. She seriously wondered if the same could be true for her and resolved to give it a try.  
  
_You and I are going to get to be good buddies whether you like me or not_ , she deliberately thought at the Logrus - and felt Her cold, alien smile.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
How do you describe the breakdown of a reality you barely understand? It would have been so unspeakably easy for Lord Suhuy to trap Sarah’s mind in any of the lies or half-truths she was being shamelessly barraged with on a near-daily basis now, had it not been for that lingering, persistent barb of doubt – a fear, a pain she grew to crave, to cling to by her fingernails. Every day she would steal away alone and do her darndest to get the ring off. The initial terror was slowly morphing into a massive roller-coaster-like adrenaline rush, the clarity a shocking, glorious punch in the face. After just two-and-a-half weeks, she could stand to have it all the way off; it made her heart race like mad the first time but at length she finally got it under control with breathing techniques. The Logrus had been only too willing to accept her primal fear and Sarah gripped Her for dear life like a monstrous hand. For all the amazing things she had mastered and learned within the last half-year, this was the very first thing that felt like a real accomplishment. It got to the point that she could actually leave it off for short periods of time. At the beginning she worried that this might be the point where she would be caught; the details for the monitoring mechanism of the artifact remained perceptually vague to her and she wasn’t about to commence tampering with it internally. At the very least it could totally overwhelm her if it did nothing else. So far so good, though; Mandor hadn’t made a single sign that he was aware of this new development. After a few more days Sarah concluded – correctly – that as long as she just kept it on her person somehow he would never be the wiser; she didn’t have to actually have it on her finger for that part of the spell to work. That fact alone made her considerably leery of the rest of it, however.  
  
Without it on, even the library and her rooms seemed a beautiful, awe-inspiring surrealist…dream? Nightmare? The labels hardly mattered anymore. She couldn’t get over just how cool that purple fire in the grate looked now; so many of her sensory reactions had been blunted for so long. Probably so this place and her ‘training’ wouldn’t scare her to death before she had had the chance to get used to this new, expanded version of reality. It was still almost too much to swallow unaided but she forced herself to only think of small bits of it at a time this way. Certain concepts remained impossible for her to wrap her natural mind around and stay sane, though, and actually withstood a little mental modification. No more of this ‘shadows’ shit - they were dimensions, separate dimensions; that she could handle. Her powers, such as they were, worked fine whether she thought of how they really mechanically operated on a quantum level or whether she thought of just waving a wand like she was the Tooth Fairy. The fact that such basic things held here despite changes in observation was proof enough that at least some of this experience was substantially ‘real’; that helped.  
  
In comparison, other parts of her life felt really submerged now; she was scrupulously careful to wear the ring to all her lessons and whenever there was even the barest chance her guardian could be present, the memories sustained from this state were dreamlike. It almost saddened her a little that she had never been allowed to know Mandor without this mediation; there were always questions – some totally unimportant, just about him – that she only thought to ask when the ring was off. And consistently forgot again the moment it was back on. She never voiced them but nevertheless started taking notes of what they were and under what circumstances they arose. The thorns of mistrust had successfully been sown, but they would be fertilized by none other than Mandor himself – as the Goblin King had foreseen.  
  
The longer Sarah toyed with this perception shift, the more it became apparent that Mandor Sawall had deliberately hidden more from her than just his private life. The most obvious discovery came early due to the fact that she had mostly performed her first experiments on her shadow in the few instances of Sofi’s absence: every last flowering plant there seemed to produce a similar chemical compound that induced a mild euphoria, although the effect was markedly more concentrated in certain areas, especially parts of the orchard and under the willow that had the special grass. True, those pale little blossoms were a far cry from the Wicked Witch of the West’s magical poppies, but the effect was enough to make her take pause. She had granted Mandor carte blanche to make this world as he saw fit within specific parameters: she had wanted a beautiful, restful place that she could be happy in no matter what. This secured the desired effect very efficiently and reliably – in fact, it was more acute if she was antsy or stressed out - but still… The substance did not appear to be addictive, even in her more alert state; she even stayed away completely for four consecutive days just to make sure and felt no craving or withdrawal whatsoever. It was totally inert, harmless of itself. The experience did give her a slightly better feel for the subtle, quiet cunning of her guardian, however, and put her a little more on edge when it came to his magics.  
  
If Mandor had not used such a ruse, perhaps the rest would not have been discovered so quickly, although, to be fair, Suhuy had a hand in this as well, but very obtuse in comparison. Sarah was often too tired after her new ‘lessons’ - both physically and psychologically - to go traipsing all over her own world afterwards, and while ring-less one day she suddenly remembered that while the floating stairs were ‘locked’ into the library, she had actually never tried to take one through a trump; this succeeded at once. She shocked Sofi into croaking as she sailed on through the portal, riding one.  
  
“Mistress! What in Chaos are you doing?” the raven cried as Sarah swooped circles about her in midair, laughing.  
  
“You’re not the only one who can fly! This is a riser from Mandor’s library staircase that I’ve been toying with for ages indoors. I seriously can’t believe I never thought to do this! Then again…” she stopped, hovering about four feet off the ground.  
  
Intrigued, Sofi landed on it and examined it. “If I am not mistaken, you will have to reupholster it before you leave; it is beginning to show undue wear. Is he aware that you are larking about in this crazy manner?”  
  
“He is,” Sarah sighed with a light smirk, remembering him that first evening flying along the ceiling on it at top-speed upside-down with altered feet – clawed – so he could cling to it, with a huge grin on his face; it was their little secret. “Although I had to promise him up and down I’d be careful and not fly too high. I swear Lord Suhuy is trying to work me to death! I didn’t even feel up to walking down to the creek today, but now that I’ve got real transportation I want to see just how far this place goes.”  
  
Sofi looked slightly taken aback. “Goes, mistress?”  
  
“Yeah – I’ve only walked so far here; there’s only so far you can walk in a day. I want to see this world from your point-of-view. How far it is as the crow flies, as we would say back home,” she smirked.  
  
Sarah couldn’t honestly tell whether Sofi was pleased or not – the bird was incapable of physically smiling - but the raven was holding her head a bit higher as she gracefully took to the air again, swooping close by Sarah’s face.  
  
“Then let’s see if you can keep up,” she teased good-naturedly but with an edge of pride, taking off ahead of her.  
  
She was hardly bragging – it was all Sarah could do to keep up with her! They kept relatively low to the ground as per Mandor’s wishes but on they sped, past the trees and fields, past the stream, past the orchards and another bright clear stream further on, more silvery weeping willows coming up, each standing alone with the little verdant alcoves underneath. There went another orchard…but wasn’t that just like… another stream…and more trees. No, wait!  
  
“Stop!” Sarah shouted and disembarked, running down the gently sloped hill to a willow that looked eerily familiar. Shoving aside the curtain of thick-drooping fragrant branches, she saw the lightly flattened areas of grass where she usually sat. The therapeutic long grass waved and undulated off to the left.  
  
Sarah shook her head and blinked a few times, then looked again. It was impossible.  
  
Sofi almost scared her to death as she silently landed on her shoulder; Sarah had been too preoccupied to notice her and just about jumped out of her skin when she landed.  
  
“Oh, forgive me for startling you, mistress!” she gently apologized, preening her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”  
  
Sarah glanced over at the bird rather suspiciously. “You had to have been leading me in circles; I just saw the exact same landscape three times in a row! This is where we always hang out!”  
  
“It is indeed where we have come, but I flew straight and true.”  
  
There was something odd in the raven’s voice that made Sarah wonder. She was superficially telling the truth – Sarah had sensed no directional change herself - but there was obviously more to this than she was telling. Perhaps more than she was allowed to tell. It was then that Sarah remembered what Suhuy had told her a couple months back about the warping of space-time, that it was not only possible but common at the far reaches out here; she had simply never experienced it firsthand. There was a chance that she could go further straight by flying in circles but Sarah had a bad feeling that wasn’t the case here. Walking with determination back out to the riser, Sofi flapped off her shoulder as the girl lay down flat on her stomach, hugging the carpeted board tightly to herself, willing it to rise.  
  
“What are you doing, mistress?” Sofi called up in concern.  
  
“Just seeing if I can get a better view; I promise I’ll be right back down,” she yelled back. Sarah carefully levitated to treetop height, then higher, higher up past the hills until she was high enough to truly see and she made the board rotate slowly so she could best take in the panorama…  
  
Sarah tightened her grip as the shock quietly set in. It went on forever in all directions – the same trees, the same stream, the same orchards, she could swear she just saw the exact same alien doe bound across fifty or more separate meadows at once in different directions!  
  
_It’s like a funhouse mirror room_ , she thought soberly as she slowly descended. This ‘world’ was only a tiny pocket about a mile-and-a-half square, and the thought suddenly made her feel terribly claustrophobic. This was a room, just like the others she was confined to when alone, the only appreciable difference being that it was ostensibly outside. As she came within fifteen feet of ground level the feeling of euphoria grew strong again. She was almost on the verge of crying when Sofi caught her eye…or was it? The raven was waiting for her in the meadow; she was perched on a thick, gnarly stalk of dried plant material. A weed? Sarah had never seen any here. It blackened and crumpled to nothing under her claws. Did she just visibly waver a little?  
  
The instinct that Suhuy had so carefully been honing in the girl kicked in automatically for the first time; before Sarah even realized what she was doing, she grabbed the bird with the Hand of the Logrus, forcing her to assume her true shape!  
  
“No, Mistress! Please stop!” Sofi piteously cried but it was too late: Sarah watched in amazement and just a little honest fear as her friend, her confidante, grew and shifted into a being four-and-a-half feet tall with a humanoid torso and arms but legs that terminated into massive bird’s feet. She was totally black from tip-to-toe; her wings had shifted to her back, growing exponentially larger, almost reminiscent of an angel. She bent in half, cowering, as she covered her face with her scaly, clawed hands with only three elongated digits each.  
  
“Please, turn away your frightened gaze, I feel it! My master strictly warned you were never to see me this way! He will cage me again when he knows! Oh, look away!” she wailed; she was shaking.  
  
Sarah bravely got down from the board and walked toward her. Shapeshifting was something she had come to accept as a basic part of ‘normal life’ in this world but she had never realized that even little Sofi was more than she seemed. She should’ve guessed.  
  
“I won’t tell him about this and neither will you,” Sarah stated with such gravitas and will that Sofi peeked up at her from between her fingers – her irises were still bright red. Then she hid her face again.  
  
“Let me go,” she said a bit more calmly in a slightly lower voice, less raspy, “I wish to at least assume a face you will find more pleasing.”  
  
“Oh, sorry!” Sarah belatedly realized she had forgotten to banish the Logrus; she thought she felt cold laughter as She withdrew. Sofi turned her back for a moment, still holding her face, and Sarah waited patiently as she adjusted her features to her liking, then stood up straight and tentatively looked back at Sarah over her shoulder.  
  
Sarah’s breath caught – she was almost painfully beautiful. Sofi had assumed a humanoid face that could’ve been on a model, but the effect was rendered exotic by her inky complexion. It really made her red eyes pop. She had no hair, just downy little black feathers here and there.  
  
“Hello,” she said quietly, turning all the way back around, still unsure of Sarah’s reaction. Her anatomy had slight muscle tone but no reproductive features. The rest of her was more scaled. Sarah realized she looked almost like a siren. Sofi quirked a hopeful smile. “Forgive me for saying this, Mistress, but it’s a bit rude to force a demon to shift like that. How did you even know? You never showed any sign of recognition before.”  
  
Sarah raised her un-ringed left hand and showed her with a slow, bitter smirk; Sofi’s eyes widened in panic.  
  
“Easy,” she reassured her, producing her trump pouch and showing her the ring shoved way down inside. “Mandor hasn’t even figured this one out yet.” She carefully put it back away, mentally fighting the soothing compulsion to put it back on.  
  
Sofi just slowly shook her head, dumbfounded. “But how-”  
  
Sarah put up a hand to silence her. “I won’t get you into trouble on this; it’s my secret. What I saw you doing – destroying that plant – do you do that often?”  
  
Sofi sighed, looking away toward the usual willow. “Can we at least sit, Mistress? My leg muscles are unaccustomed to standing in this form, I use it so seldom anymore.”  
  
“Oh - of course!” Sarah conceded at once – and forgot to breathe as Sofi took to the air in her larger wings, soaring down to their spot in a fraction of a second! The demoness glanced back at her - like ‘aren’t you coming already?’ - mischievous fire in her bright, fiery eyes.  
  
_It’s the same old bird_ , Sarah thought as she rode the riser down to join her. It was long enough for them to sit together on it like a bench and Sarah motioned her over.  
  
“Thank you, Mistress, but I am more comfortable where I am,” she replied demurely from where she lounged upon her stomach, propped up on her elbows. It suddenly struck Sarah that this creature never got to properly recline in her raven form; this was a luxury for her, and she quickly followed suit, laying back on the silk-soft grass beside her.  
  
“You desired to know what I was doing back there and why, correct? What I was doing was obvious enough but nevertheless I shall tell you why – you have guessed nearly all else. I was charged with the upkeep of this Shadow, small as it is. It had to be small; anything larger would have required more help. And since I was here anyway, well…” she glanced over at Sarah, who was listening intently; it almost struck her as slightly comical, “my master thought you might enjoy a little company.”  
  
It was also clear that Sofi was unused to having readable facial features; her tone was pleasant enough but she was obviously lying through her teeth, although she was trying to be nice about it.  
  
“He told you to keep an eye on me, too,” Sarah answered flatly. Sofi looked a bit ashamed as she glanced away.  
  
“…yes. He was concerned about your being out here alone and he ordered me to casually watch over you in the guise you have come to be comfortable with. I have been a carrion raven for him so often the form is easy enough for me to assume.”  
  
“I know this is going to sound incredibly stupid of me,” Sarah faltered, “but I seriously thought you were just his pet – no offense.”  
  
That received a dry laugh. “I suppose I am in a way,” she shifted her flight feathers slightly.  
  
“But…really…you’re his slave.”  
  
Sofi ruffled; it looked so bizarre in her current form. “Say ‘servant’, Mistress; that is the proper term used here,” she uttered a bit tersely. “Although how you so indelicately couched it is unfortunately closer to the nature of the thing. I am bound to Mandor Sawall, body and spirit; I am compelled to serve, to do anything he asks of me. However, I have yet to see him abuse this power with any of us, and even though I am compelled to say this, it is still true: he is a good and fair master. He has never asked more of me than I can rightly perform, although he does not tolerate failure and neither should he.” She turned on her side to face Sarah. “Do not look so appalled, Mistress. This is the order of our society and has been for eons out of memory. Nearly a half of habitable Chaos would physically collapse in minutes without this structure. We are literally the foundation of their world,” she added with a touch of pride, a steely glint of purpose in her eye.  
  
It was a lot for Sarah to swallow and just due to her American democratic upbringing alone; she was still having a hard time processing it. “I’m not trying to incite open rebellion or anything here, but I’ve got to ask: don’t you ever think about being free? Don’t you ever miss it? Or have you always…” she uneasily trailed off. It might have been an uncouth discussion but no one else had ever spoken of it so openly and frankly with her; even her textbooks carefully minced their way around the topic or just spouted superiority propaganda like this state of affairs was nothing.  
  
Sofi’s expression slowly turned remote, alien as she stared up at the canopy of leaves and she was quiet for a time; Sarah almost rued having asked the question. “I have lived this way for too long,” she said at length. “I care for too many places, too many people, to return to the primal Pit of Chaos even if I could. I will never again be truly free. Do you understand?”  
  
Sarah nodded, remembering her family and friends, remembering Toby and what she had gone through because she didn’t have the heart to leave him. There was a lack of freedom there, too, but it was hardly a bad thing. But this…  
  
“Then with your leave, Mistress, I shall reassume my avian form; this has been quite long enough of a breech of conduct on my part,” she said, slowly rising to her feet, stretching her great wings for a moment. Sarah didn’t look away as Sofi collapsed down on herself, shrinking and shifting, as the beautiful faux face grew feathers and the mouth and nose fused into a large, sharp beak. Her eyes were the same, Sarah realized, just proportionally smaller, and she briefly wondered what Sofi’s real face had looked like that she had been so afraid to show her, remembering how hideous sweet-natured Gryll had been. Had to be a demon thing.  
  
And then she found herself thinking of a man who could shift into owl-form at will…  
  
“You never stop pondering, do you, Mistress,” Sofi rasped in her tape-recordery voice, giving her the eye from where she stood upon the grass.  
  
Sarah sat up. “Alright, riddle me this, raven,” she smirked, “why would Mandor go to such elaborate efforts to deceive me like this? I mean, he glamoured up the library and my quarters at first so the move wouldn’t be such a horrendous shock to my system – I get that – but that ring I showed you kept me lightly sedated for months; it kept me from thinking of certain questions, especially around him, of questioning too much of what was going on. He seems bent on monitoring me as much as possible, even in my apartment; he managed to sneak in this teensy gremlin and I know that thing watches me; I can feel it! And now this…” she widely gestured around her. “Sofi, I’ve been through so many alien worlds at this point I seriously doubt anything this side of a hellride could shake me – and he didn’t even tell me about you?! And the longer I think about all of this, the more it’s starting to look like a big setup, like something is going to happen to me, and whatever it is I think it’s something I really don’t want to be a part of. You’ve obviously known Mandor for a long time – I mean, you know him. I’m asking you this as a friend: do you have any idea what’s going on here?!”  
  
Sofi gravely stalked over and hopped onto Sarah’s left hand – a sign that she wanted to talk eye-to-eye. Sarah raised her up and nearly flinched: the raven that was not really a raven stared straight through to her core – she couldn’t look away!  
  
“It is ponderous slow in its germination, but I see the beginnings of an immense…shift, in you – forgive the term, but I know not what the true one is.”  
  
She blinked and Sarah lightly shuddered, freed. “I know, I feel it, too – it’s …there, just out of reach, beyond my conscious control. What I did to you just a few minutes ago, I didn’t mean to do that, honest! I’m so sorry I scared you like that, but it just _happened_. That was knee-jerk automatic!”  
  
“But it worked well and cleanly,” Sofi calmly noted. “I observed no adverse reaction to your use of the Logrus in that instance.”  
  
Sarah stopped, surprised – Sofi was right! She hadn’t even thought to notice! _Whoa…_  
  
The raven casually climbed up her arm to her shoulder, sorting her hair out of the way. “If you will allow me to say something as your friend,” she spoke softly in her ear, “knowledge is not always going to be your friend, Sarah.”  
  
Sarah glanced at her; it was the first time she had ever just addressed her by name!  
  
“I know it sounds a trifle hypocritical coming from me,” she demurred, “but nevertheless. You were far happier before you knew any of this – more content – and I see no particular advantage to be gained if this only causes you strife and worry. In the long run none of it really matters anyway: all tends toward the entropy of the Abyss of Creation. It is best to simply enjoy the process as best one can on the way to the Great Reunification.”  
  
Sarah only sighed. “Just keep telling yourself that nothing matters, Sofi,” she said sadly, reaching over to stroke her soft chest fluff, “whatever helps you get by.”  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
As Sarah sailed back into the library through the trump, she was too mentally preoccupied to immediately register that she was not alone. She hopped off the riser and commenced carrying it to its usual spot at the top of the demi-flight that led to her apartment – it hadn’t automatically returned this time. She hoped the spell wasn’t damaged; at least it still floated.  
  
“Oh, Sarah.”  
  
She heard Mandor’s familiar chuckle and whipped around on the staircase; he was standing there with his arms crossed; he had only been ten feet behind where she had come in! In a moment of panic, Sarah realized that her ring was still off in her trump pouch!  
  
“It was really only a matter of time before you tried this, wasn’t it?”  
  
He didn’t look angry – did anything anger him? Sarah decided to play it normal. It would be far too suspicious if she quickly retreated right now to put it back on. Practically praying the Logrus would make him oblivious for five minutes, she replaced the stair and casually walked back down to him.  
  
“Busted,” she smirked, “although you have to concede Lord Suhuy’s been running me into the ground for three weeks. I didn’t feel up to the hike today.”  
  
“That is true,” he sighed a bit apologetically as she approached. There was something… different about her, but he didn’t really have the leisure to examine her properly to figure out just what it was. Her green eyes were slightly more intense; how odd. “Now, I know it’s your favorite toy,” he mock-scolded, “but I don’t want my poor staircase, oh, what’s the Shadow-Earth phrase? ‘Racking up frequent flyer miles,’ out-of-doors. Is that clear?”  
  
Sarah sighed, nodding, looking away.  
  
Mandor eyed her a moment longer, then made up his mind with a smirk. “Besides, I think this would be better suited to a rougher environment than a velvet-carpeted riser.”  
  
Sarah turned back and saw that he was holding what looked like a white snowboard; he gave it a light push toward her and it slowly floated toward her sideways!  
  
“It might take a little more practice to learn to maneuver it properly, but it should be a much smoother ride, and for Power’s sake use the footstraps!”  
  
Sarah closed he eyes as she caught it with a smile. Whether it was a genuine gift or a deliberate distraction she didn’t really care at this point. She was surprised to find she could actually feel the residue of his intention on the thing (realizing that the ring had been blocking this small phenomenon also) – both intentions were present, actually. Whatever was going on here, he was thoroughly enjoying spoiling her rotten in the meantime. She opened her eyes. His expression was definitely analogous to what she had felt: it was the look of a devil in a generous mood.  
  
“Thank you. I’ll just go put it away.” She started a measured, calm retreat up the stairs.  
  
“Get cleaned up while you’re in there; you have some written exams on Chaosian philosophical history in about ten linear minutes.”  
  
Sarah groaned. “It just never ends!”  
  
“It will end soon enough,” her guardian replied, amused. Then ventured, “How are you feeling lately, Sarah?”  
  
It was a casual enough of a question but it made her instantly cold. Could he tell? She had to wonder. Honesty was probably best.  
  
“Kind of weird,” she answered over her shoulder, still walking.  
  
“I know,” he nodded reassuringly. “Don’t worry, you’ll adjust to it. I’ll see you at dinner.”  
  
He did notice that she hadn’t even slowed down to talk to him as she went into the adjacent room and closed the door. It wasn’t just him – that had been strange. If this continued he would have to have words with his uncle. Whatever the old Chaos lord was doing to her, it couldn’t appreciably affect her personality or she would figure it out; beyond that point was a kind of interpersonal no-man’s land he hoped they weren’t going to have to traverse.  
  
But even in this Mandor proved too confident in the end. It took only two days longer for Sarah to discover the motherlode, as it were. She had been searching for reference materials on the ground floor sans ring late one evening when she finally noticed: there was a rather unassuming book six to the left from the one she needed that looked decidedly blurry - she couldn’t seem to focus on the spine no matter how hard she tried, her gaze literally slipped off it to the left or right! Feeling where it was instead with her hand, she pulled it off the shelf and stuck it on the pile she was taking back to her rooms.  
  
If the cover had been dubious, the content was downright concerning: the entire tome seemed to be a treatise on how to control other people both psychologically and magically without their knowledge! There was even a section on tampering with food. Mandor’s characteristic notes were in the margins. She froze when she got to the chapter on plantable artifacts and saw the preliminary setup spells for a ring; she slammed it shut, not wanting to see anymore, Jareth’s mocking warning crescendoing to a roar in her ears.  
  
But it was too late. Pandora’s box was open. She had to know!  
  
Racing back out into the library with the book, one of her composition notebooks and a writing implement, she took a fast note of the title and where she had found it before carefully putting it back, then spent the better part of four hours scouring the entire library for other hidden tomes and making notes of what and where they were. Altogether, there were over two-dozen! Sleep did not come easily to Sarah that night; in the end she wound up on the couch in her ‘living room’, letting the op-art painting work its hypnotic magic.  
  
It wasn’t easy hiding this discovery and it made her truly loathe wearing the ring, now that she knew what it really was. She hated to admit it, but the thing did make bluffing her way through her daily interactions with Mandor significantly easier even with the knowledge. She thought of Sofi’s confidential comments about ‘her master’ as he smiled at her over his fabulously delicious breakfast (the flavors most likely magically enhanced, she now realized, not to mention being laced with the light compulsion to eat whatever was set before her), making light conversation, refilling her glasses with an easy, practiced flourish. Even now she had a hard time imagining him as truly evil. He didn’t seem evil. He just seemed like the world’s most outrageously anal control freak, which conjured up even wilder inappropriate mental images that she had to use the Logrus to squash.  
  
The following nights sorely tested even this relatively hopeful supposition. There were books on black magic, books on practical torture, even Machiavelli’s ‘The Prince’, translated into a clean but decidedly foreign dialect of Thari; that one had seen plenty of use. It was simply baffling that he had left all of this in here for just anyone to find, but she had to reflect that for all of his outgoing charm and apparent popularity in the upper social circles, Mandor Sawall was an intensely private man at times, notorious for having a reclusive streak a mile wide. Who knew when the last time had been that he had let anyone in here for any purpose at all, save light dusting? Suhuy obviously didn’t think much of this if he had bothered to pay attention (which didn’t exactly paint him in a favorable light, either.) And between the relatively light spell on the tomes and the limiting compulsions of her ring, her guardian had thought the extremely scattered titles safe from her curious eyes. Sometimes the best place to hide a secret was in plain sight; missing books would have been immediately obvious – he kept all of his shelves meticulously filled to capacity.  
  
Not all of the material was sinister, though. Some of them were simply stuffed with technical information that her guardian had seen no purpose in plaguing his young human charge with; she felt like her brain was tying itself in knots just skimming through some of them! A couple of large, richly bound volumes she had dug off the top poetry shelf on the second floor she quickly admitted she was too young to read, returning them unopened past the first few pages each, cheeks blazing.  
  
By the end of the process, Sarah was beginning to seriously second-guess her paranoia – in all likelihood, probably everybody here had a few books like these lying about someplace (it was Chaos, after all) – when she got to the fourth-to-final volume on a fifth-tier shelf near the fireplace. It looked relatively new compared to the others and perhaps not as well cared for, which was decidedly unusual for any of Mandor’s possessions regardless of age. In fact, it took some effort to get it unwedged from the shelf; it had been forced on, apparently with little difficulty from how evenly the spine was lined up with the other books, which was also strange. On the surface it looked like yet another arcane volume (surprise, surprise) but upon opening it, commencing the mandatory skim, she noted a rather different, scrawlier handwriting at the tops of just a few pages. Suhuy’s? It was possible - it looked similar enough to the old man’s script - but there was no way of knowing for certain. She was on the verge of re-jamming it back onto the shelf when a page fell open – it had obviously been forced open at some point in time, the spine was bent badly here, almost to the point of breaking. Mandor’s fluid handwriting was on this one. All over this one.  
  
Upon reading what it was, seeing the occult diagrams and very explicit instructions, Sarah sat down on the floor right where she was in abject shock, feeling chilled to the bone in spite of the blazing fire only a few feet away.  
  
She felt like she was in the midst of one of her nightmares. This couldn’t possibly be real. It couldn’t.  
  
Hands shaking, she picked it back up and read it again carefully to make sure she had seen it right, then fought down a wave of blind panic, her heart pounding in animalistic fear, wishing that accursed ring was in her nightgown so she could thrust it on and forget what she had just seen.  
  
But she couldn’t forget. Never, never, never. All this time they had been carefully prepping her for…  
  
Sarah had never felt so terribly alone in all her life as she climbed back up the ladder and angrily punched the tome back onto the shelf before running back to her room to crash on the mattress, hot tears streaming into her pillow.  
  
How could he?! How could he pretend to care for her that much – that well – when he was really planning on … she couldn’t even think it!  
  
Sarah rolled over, drying her eyes on her sleeve. If she actually meant that little to Lord Mandor Sawall, she wouldn’t waste any more time in mourning what hadn’t been a real relationship in the first place. She had to start thinking of a way to get out of here right now! Yesterday, preferably. Her very life most likely depended on her escaping before her… ‘training’… was complete! The thought made her want to wretch but she ignored her stomach, her mind racing furiously. There had to be a way! Recollecting her wits and her nerve, she reentered the library, doing her best to stuff her breaking heart as she began to earnestly dig through the law books on the far side of the room to the left. Whether she liked it or not, these people played by certain rules; the trick was finding the right one.  
  
_Say your right words…_ For one crazy moment, Sarah giggled at the thought of wishing Mandor away to the goblins, but she knew Jareth would kill her for it if she did. _Guess we’ll call that Plan B_ , she thought with a cold smirk, pulling a huge stack of thick books off a shelf and dragging them over to one of the study tables that she had grown accustomed to using as a personal desk in this room. If only she could find a legal loophole that would allow her to get herself out of this situation in one piece…  
  
She had known for quite some time that the proverbial deck was stacked heavily in favor of the nobility here; whoever was head of the individual ‘House’ could literally make up the law as they went along in regard to underlings, which made this a much harder challenge than it should’ve had any right to be. The Crown almost never got involved with minor internal affairs, and certainly never if it was a matter of nobles versus anybody else. In her case, Mandor not only had the jurisdiction as her host but as the head of Sawall besides, which complicated things even further.  
  
Wide-eyed panic alone was serving to keep her alert as she kept digging into the wee hours of the morning. There were laws and punishments for everything here! The books looked like they had only been slightly edited since Gramble Sawall’s death – the former duke - mostly just modification of certain severe punishments to streamline the time involved, some actually worsened in the name of expediency. The Chaos lord clearly had no interest in playing judge, but what this meant in her case remained ominously ambiguous. _Not unlike Mandor, come to think of it, she reflected bitterly_ , forcing herself to continue.  
  
Sarah’s adrenaline boost was flagging by the time she found a small passage that looked vaguely helpful, albeit a real Hail Mary of a long shot: if she could prove that she was being unfairly imprisoned, she could actually challenge him for her freedom. The wording was just awful and the context full of smoke-and-mirrors legalese with dozens of riders, but in all probability this was the best thing she was going to find. Quickly putting the rest away, she went over to the sofa by the fireplace to carefully read it though again, killing the ‘lights’. The text did not improve upon a second perusal, but it was clearly the angle she was going to have to take; she closed the book with a resounding thud and put it aside, staring into the purple flames.  
  
Time – such as it was – was of the essence. There was absolutely no way in Chaos that she could possibly hide this level of distress from either Suhuy or her ‘guardian’ (that was a laugh.) Even the ring wasn’t that revisionist in coloring her thinking. This was, of course, her other big fear: that given half a chance, Mandor would simply make her forget. He seemed scarily skilled that way, went with the whole ‘control freak’ thing nicely; at this point she honestly wouldn’t put it past him.  
  
She had to challenge him to a duel then, but what kind? A sorcerous duel, while a time-honored tradition and a highly respected art in the Courts, was obviously out of the question; it would be like a krill trying to go up against a baleen whale. He’d wipe her memory for sure and give her a new toy to play with when it was over as if nothing had happened at all. No, it had to be a physical duel. That thought alone was a daunting, depressing proposition. Native Chaosians were several times stronger than their human counterparts on average, although there was some variance in how much stronger they were individually. Mandor might have been approaching middle age (for him) but you’d never know it to see him fence; he still bested her regularly in their bouts – it was almost easy for Sarah to forget she was still fencing him with all the different visages he assumed for their exercise. She would need clever skill to best him, not brute strength. About the only saving grace she could possibly even see here was the fact that unlike the princes of Amber, who regularly lived by the sword and were supernatural Olympian athletes in consequence, Chaosians often favored sorcery over physical exertion, so he was actually not as strong as he could potentially be otherwise. It was still a pretty bleak outlook but she knew she had to try.  
  
Tomorrow.  
  
_Tomorrow. How has it all come to this?_ she thought blearily. For one desperate moment Sarah tried to convince herself that it was all just a big misunderstanding, that Mandor would find her in here in the morning and make berry crêpes for breakfast once he’d heard what was troubling her, but in her heart-of-hearts she knew it was a lie. There had been a direct reference to her written across the top of that page in his own handwriting, specifically how to do it. The evidence against him was irrefutable, damning.  
  
All thoughts of rest banished, she went back to her room and got dressed in a close-fitting blouse and slacks and her fencing shoes, then went to the gymnasium. Taking her practice foil out of an unlocked case, she ran through her positions and footwork for a while; never in her life had she thought she was going to actually need this. It was then that she remembered the trisps and how one of the fandons – the shield mesh - had fallen that other night she had been sneaking around in here. That ‘accident’ had inadvertently protected her; had it been meant as a private message as well? She could almost believe it now. The trisp and fandon were the traditional formal weapons used in a contest like this – showy and powerful but incapable of inflicting serious internal damage unless the duelers were really trying. Crossing back over to the cases, Sarah summoned a couple of thin Logrus strands and actually managed to pick the lock, pausing a moment in case Mandor had some kind of a magical security system; nothing untoward happened. Quietly opening the door, she slowly extracted one of the trisps and, careful to point it away from herself, activated the thin ‘blade’ – it flared golden at once. The handle with the trigger grip felt a bit odd to her, accustomed as she was to a reasonable facsimile of a ‘French’ foil – straight – but it was easy enough to maneuver. Almost a little too easy, actually; it was lighter and faster, harder to control, the golden flakes that flew off of it as it slashed the very air were beautiful but deadly. She practiced a single lunge with it, pulling the trigger, and watched in amazed trepidation as the liquid fire shot out half-a-foot farther, unnaturally extending her reach.  
  
Quickly disarming it and putting it away, she managed to relock the case, confident that she could get in again, but as she was walking back out of the gym, she thought to deliberately stop in front of the ancient, sentient suit of demon-armor. She had been going out of her way to purposely avoid the wretched thing for months now, but she made no attempt to avoid it this time. She had to have changed since she first arrived here; she no longer scared easily like a small child at the slightest provocation. Its reaction to her was bound to be different by now; the phenomenon could be interesting to see.  
  
Unabashedly striding up to the stand-alone case in the dark, Sarah noticed no change inside of it for about a second…then the armor commenced to glow in a dazzling myriad of phosphorescent colors, rippling, swirling about, transfixing her where she stood – then it suddenly shot a sizable blob of black poison at the front of the glass case, making her jump! She quickly paced back, shaking her head clear; the armor resumed looking decrepit and rusty. Only the poison remained at eye-level, oozing down.  
  
“So you think I’m more distractible than a scaredy-cat now, huh?”  
  
It shot more ooze at the glass. Sarah quickly decided against riling the thing up any further; there was acrid-looking smoke rising in there...  
  
Going back to her apartment, Sarah couldn’t even sit still; she was pacing like a caged tiger in the ‘sitting room’. She knew darn well that that little gremlin was watching her from inside the speakers of her stereo and she had half a mind to just bring Sofi through so she could eat the wretched thing when she suddenly remembered.  
  
_Oh, Sofi…_  
  
Sarah had promised her she would come and say goodbye when she was leaving; it felt surreal that goodbye was coming so soon. She sadly retrieved her trump pouch from the vanity, strapping it on, and dug out the portrait of the world Mandor had purposely designed to keep her too preoccupied to figure out what was happening to her. The painting was of an idyllic daytime diorama, but the view turned to twilight as it rippled into focus and she stepped through, carefully pocketing the card before she lost it in the dark, conjuring a spirit-light to see by. The stars were dancing at the beginning of the night here; that alone brought up bittersweet memories.  
  
“Sofi!” she called out across the meadow; her voice seemed to carry a lot further than the actual space they were in. “Sofi, are you there?”  
  
“Mistress, is that you?” she heard off in the distance, coming from the direction of the orchard.  
  
“Yes, it’s me! Can you come?”  
  
“Of course!” the strong corvine voice replied, and soon Sarah spotted a black silhouette gliding across the night sky; it swooped down to land on her arm. “This is indeed a pleasant surprise, Mistress! Is my master having your rooms serviced again? It seems a bit soon.”  
  
At this, Sarah finally broke down and cried right there in the middle of the field, crumpling where she stood.  
  
“Mistress!” Sofi exclaimed, flapping off of her, “what is it? Shall I try to fetch my master here for you?”  
  
“No!” Sarah screamed in alarm, looking back up, then reached out to her. “Oh, Sofi, I’m so sorry…”  
  
“What’s the matter?” the raven repeated, climbing onto her, but she could get nothing further out of her for a long time but sobs. After about a minute’s concerted weeping, Sarah felt a thin, cool, scaly arm go around her shoulders… and she leaned into Sofi, letting her hold her for a while as all the pain spilled out of her.  
  
At length, once Sarah had recovered herself somewhat, she told the demoness of her terrible plight, what Mandor and Suhuy – especially Suhuy – were trying to do to her. Sofi was initially incredulous, unwilling to believe anything so evil of her beloved ‘master’, but once Sarah told her of the book, the ritual, she suddenly turned deadly solemn.  
  
“At least you finally comprehend the reasoning behind your forced seclusion,” she spoke softly after a few moments silence. “I know not how I should council you in this, other than to warn you in the strongest possible terms never to speak of this matter with another soul, no matter how trustworthy they may seem. There are those even among my kind who would be sorely tempted by such power; it could purchase much as a standing threat alone. Even personal freedom, I would wager.”  
  
Sarah went cold again just hearing the words; Sofi’s red eyes caught her sudden fear.  
  
“Please do not shun me, Mistress – I could not use you in such an impersonal fashion having known you,” she stroked her hair for a moment. Then hesitated. “I cannot speak for Lord Suhuy, but I believe my master would be of the same mind. Perhaps the idea was only solicited.”  
  
“I don’t know!” Sarah groaned in consternation, looking up at the distant peach crescent. “From the looks of these notes I’d say he’s done more than think! If I’m right…” she trailed off, shaking her head.  
  
“You may actually be in palpable physical danger,” Sofi finished for her. “I do wish you would simply confront my master with your evidence and your fears, but I believe I understand why you feel you cannot,” she sighed sadly. “You do not intend to hurt him?”  
  
“No, but I have to make darn sure he takes me seriously! I can’t guarantee it’ll do any good but I’m not about to sit around waiting for somebody to just push my detonator button!”  
  
Sofi took a deep breath and stood, giving Sarah a hand up; in spite of her relatively short stature and very slight build, she was remarkably strong. “Regardless of your course of action, you will not be terribly successful in anything without at least a few hours’ rest, Mistress,” she said gently, leading her down the hill to their old willow tree. “I can rouse you in time to eat something and intercept my master first thing in the morning, and I shall hope that clarity prevails over rash action once you’re feeling a bit better,” she knelt beside her next to the therapeutic grass, her avian knees bending backwards.  
  
Sarah eyed the odd black pseudo-angelic figure a bit warily. Sofi might immediately fly off to tell Mandor everything the moment she was unconscious; she had admitted only minutes ago that she had a way of contacting him from out here.  
  
Sofi instinctively felt her uncertainty and seemed hurt.  
  
“Why are you grown so suspicious of me, Sarah? Have I ever given you serious reason to doubt my good intentions? Have I ever broken troth with you? For your own sake lie down, Mistress – I shall sing you asleep and stay by your side tonight. I promise.”  
  
Sarah was immediately filled with remorse over how she had been acting just now – it was kind of strange, come to think of it; her paranoia was pointlessly spreading in directions it had no business going, like an infection. “I’m sorry,” she sighed tiredly, rubbing her eyes.  
  
Sofi just nodded. “Things will look better tomorrow. Just take off your shoes and lie back; you have nothing to fear tonight.”  
  
_Only losing my nerve_ , Sarah thought as she complied, ripping off her fencing shoes and casting them toward the trunk of the tree before lowering herself down, trying not to think that it was probably for the last time. She didn’t have long to think about it; the grass quickly performed its old magic, shooing all thoughts from her mind, as Sofi sang an odd, monotonous tune in a language Sarah couldn’t make out. In moments she succumbed to a ponderous stupor, then true sleep.  
  
The moment she was out Sofi stopped, and, resuming her raven form, flew up into the low inner branches of the tree to sit and concertedly ponder the human girl she had just rendered unconscious. She knew her first duty was to her master, the man whose pull on her heart and soul never left her in peace. She could summon him right where she stood; they could hold free converse without disturbing Sarah’s repose in the least at this point – the ancient lullaby of the Abyss was potent indeed, irresistibly coaxing the listener toward its own Nothingness. She could warn him of the girl’s fragile state of mind and keep her promise to her.  
  
But she knew all too well that if she followed the right course of action here, her poor little mistress would never trust her again and with good reason. She might even stop coming. And after such a misadventure as Sarah was planning, she would need her confidante. Her real master might require her continued services to her in this manner as well. The old Chaos lord didn’t need everything spelled out for him, she reflected with just a touch of cold humor. He’d figure out what to do quickly enough first thing in the morning.  
  
Plucking a blossom from the tree, she swooped down and placed it next to Sarah’s face; the girl absently smiled a little in her sleep. She would need all the good dreams she could get, Sofi thought sadly, flying up through the willow to settle into the top branches to rest where the setting moon would wake her.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
“Mistress Sarah, Sarah awake! Rise and eat – your hour is upon us! Mistress?”  
  
Sarah groggily rolled over, only belatedly noticing the flattened silky grass, the smell of the loam beneath her, the sound of gently running water. She suddenly recognized the voice and turned to see…  
  
Sofi was there in her larger, more natural state, looking rather concerned. They were by the bank of the stream and a few pieces of freshly picked fruit were on the ground nearby. It was barely dawn, if such a time existed here; the lavender crescent moon was large now, hung low.  
  
“Ah, Mistress, at last you are awake; I was beginning to fear I had sung your spirit to the ancestors and left your body mistressless! Here,” she took Sarah’s hands and pulled her up so she was sitting; she would have done more but Sarah shook her off.  
  
“I can get up myself,” she snapped a bit irritatedly, the wakeup call about four hours too soon for her body. “How…how, did I get all the way over here?” she yawned, really looking around at where they were.  
  
“I carried you hither; you may need all of your strength if you still propose to do this day what you were threatening to last night. Please tell me you will at least speak to him first!”  
  
“I plan to,” Sarah crawled over to the stream and splashed the cool water over her face a couple times, “from a position I can defend myself if necessary.” She cupped her hands and drank deep.  
  
Sofi frowned. “I feared as much. How is it that this place no longer soothes you at all? It was designed to…”  
  
Sarah slowly turned to look back at her; Sofi averted her gaze.  
  
“I know,” she stated flatly with a bitter smirk. “The flowers were the first dead-giveaway once the ring was off. He really planned on keeping me this oblivious; I’m calling him on it, see what…he…”  
  
Sarah’s train of thought completely derailed as she saw a small furry electric-blue rabbit/badger-type animal lumber straight up to Sofi, then roll over on its back – and die! Sofi looked acutely embarrassed as she dared a glance back at Sarah, who was wide-eyed from the shock. “Did…did that thing just-”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“What was wrong with it? Do you know why it just keeled over like that? I’ve never even seen anything injured here, let alone die,” she said concernedly, getting up and walking over to check it out; it couldn’t possibly be but she could swear that little corpse was smiling. Had it been eating something it shouldn’t have, like the joy-blossoms? Poor thing.  
  
Sofi looked up at Sarah a bit uneasily. “It is my daily repast, Mistress; all my kind are strictly carnivorous. I know you have treated many of the living creatures here like pets – as is your right in this, your own private shadow – but, to be fair, I kept track once: there were no less than fourteen consecutive of these animals in particular that you named Blueberry. They reproduce so quickly you literally never noticed the difference; there was no reason to mention it. However, I shall refrain from consuming this one until you depart, seeing as it upsets you.”  
  
Upset may have been the wrong adjective, but to say that Sarah was surprised and genuinely taken aback was probably an understatement. “No, it’s…it’s okay, if you need to, I mean, I normally eat meat, too,” Sarah stammered, “I just-”  
  
Sofi shook her head with a smile. “It can wait. I know only fruit is not even enough breakfast for you; would that I could share this – it is always more than sufficient for sustaining my raven-form.”  
  
Sarah sat back down as nonchalantly as she could manage, and brushed clean a fruit that might’ve once been related to an orange somewhere down the line; the flesh was bruise-purple but the rind was nearly white. She commenced ripping the peel off but her mind was still on the little animal lying there. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for them, now that she knew. It was probably a natural enough order here but she had never even liked nature shows on T.V.; just because some innocent creature got butchered didn’t mean she had to watch it happen. Besides, there was something kind of …freaky about this one. Like, Dracula-freaky.  
  
“I have to ask,” Sarah finally broke the ice, separating the segments of the proto-citrus, “how did you do that? Was it psychic or a spell?”  
  
“Neither,” Sofi replied, leaning forward on her palms, stretching her wings, “it simply came and happily gave its life of its own free will so I could live another day.”  
  
Sarah stopped and stared at her. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”  
  
“I assure you it is no joke, Mistress. Small as this world may be, my master has crafted it as a thin slice of paradise. Everything here is happy all the time, even when separate existence must end to sustain the whole. Such harmony cannot exist in Order; the drive for selfish individual continuance is too great, and anything that would challenge it is immediately viewed as evil.”  
  
Sarah wasn’t quite certain how she should respond to this and hurriedly stuffed her face with the fruit instead; the rest of what Sofi had brought her required far less preparation. She got back up and took a final drink of water; when she turned back, she saw that Sofi was holding her shoes out for her. Sarah knew that she couldn’t afford to get emotional right now, but as she sat back down and pulled them on she got a little misty anyway.  
  
“Why Mistress, whatever is it now?”  
  
Sarah just shook her head with a forced lip-smile, quickly drying her eyes. “Just being a bit silly, probably. Thank you for putting up with me.”  
  
It was Sofi’s turn to look surprised. “It is my duty and privilege to serve-”  
  
“Oh, knock that off,” Sarah interrupted the proscribed diatribe, “it wasn’t your duty to help me like this. I’ll never forget it. Or you.” Kneeling, she leaned over and embraced the creature, careful of her wings.  
  
“What are you doing, Mistress?”  
  
“It’s called a hug; a really basic primate way to show affection. I’m going to miss you.”  
  
“Not for long – you’ll return this afternoon to tell me how it all went,” she replied cheerily. But they both knew it was a lie, and after about a second Sofi tentatively returned the embrace, saying nothing further.  
  
Finally Sarah let go and stood back up, digging out the library trump. “Wish me luck,” she said quietly.  
  
As she walked through, she heard Sofi’s retreating voice saying, “May the Serpent favor you…” and she mentally shook her head as she materialized back into the library. If she ever dropped any lines like that at home, her parents would automatically think she had joined a satanic cult. Maybe she had, she suddenly thought for a moment, but in all honesty it didn’t feel like it. Whatever the Logrus was, she didn’t worship Her.  
  
Racing back to her rooms, Sarah did what she had to do to finish getting ready, grabbed the two incriminating books plus the law volume (the pertinent pages all marked), and made her way to the gymnasium with all due haste, feeling more than a little crazy that she was really going through with this. It didn’t feel any more real than finding that terrible arcane passage had. Picking the lock again on the middle case, she withdrew two trisps and fandons, snugly attached one of the latter to her left arm, got a trisp primed, then – with her hand slightly shaking – dug out Mandor’s trump and carefully angled it up so he wouldn’t see any of the equipment. This was it. She took a deep breath and concentrated…  
  
The familiar form of her guardian wavered, then slowly came into focus: he was outside, leaning against a black marble balcony, the open sky behind him a vivid emerald green – she had timed this about right. He looked up and saw her.  
  
“Sarah! You’re up and about early. What occasions this call? Did you want a head-start on breakfast?”  
  
“Just meet me in the gym,” she managed to say calmly and severed the contact, then waited; he would undoubtedly try to trump her back after such an odd cutoff. And he did – she felt the forceful, probing contact reaching for her almost immediately and willed her mind to go completely blank. There were a few ways to block a call but this one was probably the most reliable. After about forty seconds’ intense pressure, she suddenly felt it let up and exhaled in relief, mentally coming back. One way or another he’d have to enter the room manually now. There was no time to waste – he would be here any minute! She quickly replaced the trump in her pouch, opened the books on the floor and armed herself with the trisp, giving it a couple practice swings; the golden light made the air crackle. Her heart was in her throat.  
  
Mere seconds later she heard Mandor burst through the door at the end of the hallway, his boots swiftly striding up the passage.  
  
“Sarah, are you all right in here? Your call died strangely and I-”  
  
The words dried up instantly as he entered the gymnasium proper and saw her, his eyes widened momentarily in disbelief as he took in the tableau. “What in Chaos is this? Put that thing down immediately before you injure yourself!”  
  
“You don’t seem terribly concerned about injuring me otherwise,” Sarah bit out coldly. “It took me long enough to figure it out,” she held up her naked left hand for him to see.  
  
Mandor almost started for a split-second, then began to measuredly pace toward her. “What are you going on about, child?” he asked calmly but concernedly. “Just deactivate the trisp and-”  
  
“READ!” she pointed down at the books with the live blade, leaving golden flakes of light in her wake.  
  
Warily approaching, Mandor had only to glance down at the opened pages to know what they were. It was simply impossible that she had located these at all, let alone all by herself. The spell he had placed on her had been flawless; there had been absolutely no way she could have even minutely altered it one iota from the inside, or even known of its existence for that matter. Who had tampered with it? Suhuy? Even less likely. But the time for such queries was clearly later. The presence of the law book puzzled him, however.  
  
“Oh, Sarah,” he sighed deeply, “I told you there was no purpose in your knowing this, that it would only serve to frighten you. I acted as I did to keep you safe for specifically this reason. It gives me no pleasure to keep you cooped up like a bird.”  
  
“You did it to keep me in the dark until it was too late!” she exclaimed, backing up a step in the en garde. “You were learning how to destroy me yourself!”  
  
“Sarah, I hold knowledge of many things,” he answered levelly, “call it a hobby if you would. I know how to conjure sufficient Primal Chaos to destroy an entire shadow-world, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do it casually just for kicks. Lord Suhuy brought this to my attention as an unfortunate possibility with you, but a possibility nonetheless; I had to become acquainted with the mechanism so I would not trigger it accidentally. There is no rift between us, Sarah,” Mandor continued smoothly. “Lower your weapon and let us go back to the library where we can discuss the matter at hand calmly and rationally over breakfast. Aside from your general paranoia, you seem to be functioning superbly without the ring; perhaps it was indeed time to remove it,” he carefully praised her, thinking to placate her thus, doing a fast mental catalogue of the fresh spells he had on hand, hoping he wasn’t going to need to use any of them to subdue her. What had come over the girl?  
  
Sarah’s resolve faltered for a moment, but she remained in en garde; looking at the floor, she gave a short, humorless laugh. “You always make everything sound so reasonable,” she shook her head with a wan smile. “You’re used to talking me into everything, even a living arrangement tantamount to house arrest with periods of enforced isolation and mandatory bouts of brainwashing.” She looked back up with steely purpose. “I’m through talking.”  
  
Mandor stepped over the books that lay between them. The fact that he was so collected even in the face of such a weapon seemed terrifying to Sarah, inhuman. Chaosian.  
  
“Sarah,” he said sternly but quietly, “I am going to ask you one final time: drop the trisp and we’ll forget this whole debacle ever happened.”  
  
Sarah grimly smiled. “I knew that would be your exit strategy. You really need to come up with something more original than repeated memory erasure.”  
  
His expression had remained calm, but a coldness had crept into his eyes that she had hitherto only seen on his trump. She literally couldn’t look away…then realized that he was slowly reaching toward his lower-right coat pocket. For his spheres.  
  
In a flash, Sarah brought her version of the Logrus up between them, freeing herself from his gaze, and a split-second later the trisp flared out, slicing open the base of the pocket, his metal spheres bouncing away across the floor! Viewing her handiwork, the strike had been flawless, not even penetrating the inner lining of the jacket!  
  
The action initially caught Mandor off-guard, but he took a deep breath to maintain his composure. Whatever was going down here, she wasn’t going to come quietly as he’d hoped. “That was ill-done, Earth-child,” he invoked a subliminal reminder of their bond, “you were lucky none of those were primed; one could have easily crashed through the outer wall and you would be facing that deadly winter head-on right now,” he coolly scolded. “You have no inking of the far-reaching implications of raising a true weapon against me. Now stop this mad game at once.”  
  
“You never keep your spheres primed,” Sarah countered, the look in her eyes wild, her adrenaline pumping now, “and I know exactly what I’m doing! I’m challenging you for my freedom – freedom of movement if nothing else,” she dared a swift glance at the law book to the left behind him.  
  
“Ah, that’s what you think this is all about,” Mandor exhaled, crossing his arms. It was infuriating to Sarah just how casually he was taking all of this. “Then allow me to introduce you to a few finer points of the law. Firstly, any unprovoked attack on my person resulting in damage is punishable by the law – which is me – since you’re technically not only a commoner but an alien in Chaos, doubly so due to your current status as my ward. Secondly, the passage which you no doubt painstakingly wasted long hours in locating only applies to blood-Chaosians – which you’re not by a longshot – and I can freely inform you that there aren’t any provisos that could possibly apply similarly to aid you; your personal situation is, to the best of my knowledge, entirely unique, and, hence, legally unprecedented. You really don’t have any manner of recourse from this standpoint, as crude as that may sound,” he stated offhandedly, stooping to pick up the books and carrying them to the edge of the hallway; setting them down, then turning to the weapons cases. And glanced back at Sarah: she hadn’t move a pace, her current expression floating somewhere between ire and confusion. Consternation, perhaps – that was well. He really didn’t want to have to face her like this but he understood perfectly well that if he used any magic to diffuse her she’d never willingly cooperate with either him or Suhuy ever again. The scenario conjured up memories of his hot-headed baby brother Jurt – Dara’s youngest – and how he literally had to be worn down to calm him down on certain occasions; although Merlin had acted as his unwilling foil while they were growing up, Mandor had had to deal with him once or twice personally since. It was, sadly, always rather effective but never terribly pleasant for either party; the last time the Chaos lord had actually sustained a broken arm from the venture. The things one did for family.  
  
Mandor removed his jacket, hanging it up on the peg on the wall, willing his spheres to fly across the room back in to the undamaged pocket before walking over to the weapons cases, unlocking a different one that usual and extracting two sheathed foils – real ones – followed by their usual fencing gear.  
  
“However,” he continued, “I can see that your blood is up and you are in no mental condition to see reason at the moment. Considering both your self-perceived and legal predicaments, I am willing to indulge you just this once, but if you’re really going to insist on engaging in this lunacy, at least have the presence of mind to choose a weapon you are nominally proficient in. And I will not raise any weapon against you for any reason at all unless you at least put on your jacket and glove,” he uttered decisively, crouching and sliding the equipment across the floor to her.  
  
Sarah’s eyes never left him, but kneeling where she was and carefully laying aside the trisp and fandon (and suddenly feeling rather vulnerable without them), she quickly suited up; her guardian was doing likewise over by the cases. She tested the suppleness of the blade.  
  
The whole affair seemed both ridiculous and oddly sinister to Mandor as he rapidly strapped into his own jacket, watching Sarah with just a little bit of honest concern. Perhaps Suhuy had unintentionally pushed her over the edge but she didn’t read right even for that; she still seemed largely in her right mind. And there was the matter of the spell gone wrong to consider. What he did sense was the lingering, acrid smell of deliberate sabotage; given half a chance to think, even Sarah seemed a little confused, hesitant of her own reasoning. It was almost like something was working in her that she wasn’t even aware of. Had she accidentally picked up an itinerant spell somewhere? All the possibilities he could come up with were so wildly unrealistic they didn’t bear considering. And there was no chance that she could’ve wandered off by herself into Shadow; she couldn’t draw a single trump to save her life and she had always been carefully supervised during her sojourns out. Or had she? He would know for certain soon enough.  
  
They both walked out to the fencing strip.  
  
“Before we commence,” Mandor assumed his ‘teacher voice’ again, “I’m going to insist on a couple of special ground rules for this bout. This must be a contest of disarmament, not touches; if you so much as accidentally scratch me I will technically be within my rights should I so choose. There will be no quarter; this is a real duel. My objective will be to disarm you as quickly as possible without either of us being injured, but I am fully prepared to keep parrying and beating your blade until you are exhausted on the floor, should it come to that. If, however, you do sustain any injury from this fool’s venture, the guilt falls upon your own head,” he saluted solemnly, suddenly looking all of his 600 years, “not mine.”  
  
Had his voice sounded slightly hurt just then? Sarah didn’t have any time to think on it – he was awaiting her attack. She commenced with a few trial beats of the blade; Mandor retreated, then came back with an obvious attack – high and inside – which she easily parried. How were they even supposed to do this? Not that she had really planned on slicing him up, but he had all but handcuffed her with his stipulations.  
  
Without warning, Mandor struck like a viper, using his gained proximity to her foible to his immediate advantage; Sarah felt her blade starting to wrench in her hand and just barely managed to parry the move, getting a safe distance from his forte again. But now she knew what he was up to.  
  
They exchanged a few relatively pointless attacks the other could see coming a mile away, both trying not to hit each other, which in Sarah’s case was far easier said than done; she was having to fight a lot of ingrained training and reflexes to do this. Hoping he wouldn’t be expecting so risky a move, she cruised her blade further up his, then attempted to nab his foible similarly to the move he had just tried on her moments ago; he flicked her away with almost embarrassing ease and pure wrist strength, and immediately commenced fishing for her foible again. Again she felt the haft literally begin pulled out of her grasp but she just barely managed to hang on.  
  
There was only one way he could disarm her as he wished: he had to get the forte of his foil against the foible of hers and circularly attack with such speed and natural force that her blade would be whipped away from her and thrown across the room. Even knowing to expect the move, it was unnerving how often he was slipping it in; he had nearly succeeded twice now and she didn’t care for the odds. Sarah began to mix in real attacks just to try and distract him; the tactic worked for all of three seconds.  
  
Mandor, seeing that she was no match for such a stylized contest, started to press her, gradually increasing his speed, throwing in feints and double-attacks, following her suit.  
  
In a bad way, the experience was exhilarating for Sarah – her first real duel after all that practice! She was fighting hard but she was holding her own for the most part. The worrying bit was the fact that Mandor could simply outlast her. There was a legendary, friendly duel that had occurred between two princes of Amber that had lasted from sunrise to sunrise normal-time, and could’ve kept right on going had other circumstances not intervened. Even at the peak of health and physical conditioning, native Chaosians weren’t half that strong, but against a shadow-being like herself a quarter-to-a-third of that strength and stamina was certainly sufficient to whip her. Now that he was in pretty decent condition in his humanoid form again (not that he had ever truly been that far out), Mandor could probably last about five hours like this without even getting winded, which was plenty by four hours and forty minutes.  
  
And he was familiar with her as an opponent – that alone was a liability; he knew her weaknesses, the moves she leaned on, the moves that could be better. His attacks were deliberately sloppy and wide now, but each time he closed with her he got closer to ripping her foil right out of her hand, which was starting to ache from the previous attempts. And it was beginning to scare her that she wasn’t having any luck at all similarly. She distinctly remembered him drilling her on this move briefly for a single day, then moving on, never to use it again, and the thought suddenly occurred to her that the lack of practice might have been deliberate – that he wanted to be able to disarm her easily if it ever became necessary – a truly unsettling idea. On top of everything else, as she observed his technique, Sarah realized it looked almost as if he had done this before; he was eerily proficient in this peculiar dance. In fact, certain aspects of it were rather reminiscent of stage fighting.  
  
The lightbulb quietly clicked on in Sarah’s mind. There was the slightest chance that she could use her acting ability to her advantage here; she had rehearsed plays for fun with Sofi numerous times but this was the one activity she had never done with him – he might not think to expect it in the heat of the duel. She still had the Logrus up between them as a safeguard against any further psychic interference on his part; technically he could read her through it, but only with much more mental effort than he could currently afford to expend. Her thoughts racing wildly, Sarah landed on a makeshift plan – it was worth a try, there was simply no time to come up with anything better. She began to parry reactionally, carefully drawing his attack by feigning the beginnings of fatigue, almost imperceptibly slowing down a touch (it wouldn’t be much longer before she was exhausted in truth; there wasn’t a moment to waste.) Registering the slight change in his expression – somber resolve, thinking the game nearly ended – she commenced a bizarre retreat, gently veering off the strip, almost toward the equipment cases; he kept right on coming, his strokes steady but varying more between high and low attacks to try to wear out her wrist and arm faster. He needed to think she might be trying to reach something over here, to distract him.  
  
_Come on, just a little farther…_  
  
Without any prelude, Sarah made a concerted attack low and outside that could’ve done real damage had he been unable to parry it; he did, but she saw the change had momentarily rattled him and she used his surprise, driving him hard and dangerously fast – fencing for real – giving him everything she had left. One stray filament of her Logrus flitted across the room, as Sarah desired…  
  
Mandor scarcely had time to think when the real attack came, and when he did his first thought was that she had truly gone mad; Sarah was sporting a fierce grin as she whaled away at him. He didn’t dare attack her now; she was going so fast he might accidentally hit her! He had barely registered that they were all the way across the room sideways when Sarah did a beat-and-feint combination followed by a true lunge that would’ve run him clean through had he not leap-parried back – as she knew he would – dropping his balance arm behind him in preparation for the riposte…  
  
And the delicate unprotected skin of the back of Mandor’s left hand made forceful contact with the exposed glass of the methane-chilled window! The physical shock was so intense that he couldn’t breathe for a moment – and the foil dropped from his sword hand. The point of Sarah’s was instantly less than an inch away from the hollow of his throat. She was no longer smiling at all as she stood there, sweaty and panting, catching her breath, her eyes still guarded, suspicious.  
  
“That was a very dirty win, Sarah,” Mandor quietly scolded her, furiously trying to rub a little warmth back into his lightly frostbitten hand, “but I’ll concede it under the circumstances. Now put away the weapons and let’s talk.”  
  
She didn’t move a muscle.  
  
“Sarah?” There was a note of warning in his voice. “I said put it down,” he added authoritatively.  
  
Sarah swallowed and very slowly advanced on him, bringing the tip of her foil under his chin. Forcing him to lift his head.  
  
“Sarah, what are you doing?!” He finally sounded pissed but she heard a distinct twinge of fear. She carefully walked him backwards until he was nearly at the window; he could feel the biting cold emanating from it. She was obviously enjoying a little power-trip at his expense – at least he sincerely hoped that’s all this was – but it had just dawned on him that even with the magic he could still perform without his spheres and his Chaosian shiftable form and reflexes, there was absolutely no way that he could possibly move away fast enough; she was simply too close. If she actually forced him to press up to the glass, he would be unconscious from hypothermia in minutes, dead in twenty. And there was literally nothing he could do to stop her! If he lived through this catastrophe, something concrete would have to be done with her to ensure that she couldn’t become an active threat like this again.  
  
As Sarah’s adrenaline rush came back down, she reflected on what she had to do next – she’d never get another chance: all she had to do was lift his trump deck and she’d be free as a bird! It never left his person; even now it was secreted beneath his fencing jacket. Naturally, other rasher courses of action had entered her mind as well, but once she got her nerves back under control…  
  
…she couldn’t do anything. He was too proud to show real fear but she could tell that the old Chaos lord was sweating bullets, wondering what she would do. And she hated him for it.  
  
Mandor saw her resolve suddenly melt away and felt the thick, velvet curtain slide down behind him.  
  
“I can’t hurt you,” her voice broke on her, full of emotion; she blinked and tears ran freely down her face. She shook her head. “I can’t,” she sobbed helplessly, thoroughly humiliated by her own weakness, her fondness for him.  
  
Her guard had dropped sufficiently that he could finally read her: ‘…even though you’ve hurt me more deeply than you’ll probably ever be able to understand.’ What Mandor understood only too well was the fact that the emotional conditioning he had done with her had in all likelihood just saved his life; he wouldn’t care to have to depend upon it in this manner a second time. But he did understand her: from her mildly warped perspective, some of his private actions toward her looked like a grievously personal betrayal of trust – and there was no way that he could think of to explain it any better under current conditions. Not until he could figure out what was changing her view of the full picture. One thing was certain, though: life couldn’t go back to the way it had been, not now – she’d ensured that. The girl really was kind of amazing in her own wild, haphazard sort of way. _Chaotic_ , he thought with a bittersweet, inward smile. She was still crying.  
  
“Put up your sword, Earth-child,” he said gently, heaving a great sigh, “I yield.”  
  
Sarah could scarcely believe her ears. “What?”  
  
“Well, that is what you wanted, is it not? Or at least what you purport to want. Now, if you wouldn’t terribly mind pointing that thing someplace else,” he slowly brought up his right hand and carefully eased the tip of her foil away from his throat with a couple fingers. Sarah lowered her foil as she backed up, still amazed, giving him room. Mandor simply watched her for a moment as she dried her eyes, then nodded to himself as if he had just come to some kind of conclusion.  
  
“I have a few private calls I need to make if you’re going to do this thing properly, starting with Lord Suhuy; there’s to be no lesson this morning,” he stated rather matter-of-factly as he looked down momentarily, removing his fencing glove. For the briefest of moments Sarah thought she saw a whisper of regret cross his features, but it passed as quickly as it came. “I am certain you have noted by now the dark-blue evening gown in the very back of your wardrobe. I had originally meant to give you some kind of special occasion to wear it, but the Logrus had other plans,” he said quietly. He glanced back at her; Sarah was hanging on every word. Perhaps the cause wasn’t so lost after all. “Go freshen up and change into it; the shoes are hidden beneath. Then disguise your appearance under the ensemble – some variant on saurian will suffice – and meet me in the library in half-an-hour. Be sure to wear your brooch and your trumps. Do you still have my ring or did you try to dispose of it somehow?”  
  
“…I still have it,” Sarah answered hesitantly.  
  
“Good – don’t put it on but nevertheless bring it with you; however you’ve been carrying it will do.”  
  
He turned away from her and procured his own trump deck from an inner side panel of his fencing jacket. Then turned back to her, slightly irritated that she was just standing there like a statue. “Just leave the equipment; I’ll put it all away. Hurry up!”  
  
Sarah ripped off her jacket and glove as bidden, dropping the foil where she stood, and turned to go. And stopped: she had to ask.  
  
“Where exactly were you planning on taking me?”  
  
Mandor glanced over his shoulder; Sarah was putting on a brave front but he could tell that she was definitely nervous. _As well she should be after that display_ , he thought. Then relented a little with a small, secretive smile.  
  
“I think it’s finally time for you to meet Merlin Barimen-Sawall.”


	9. Off to See the Wizard

Chapter 9 – Off to See the Wizard  
  
Merlin Barimen-Sawall! The name spun in Sarah’s head as she hurriedly worked to make herself as presentable as humanly possible to meet that great unknown in the ‘outside world’. Arthurian legends and old wizards naturally came to mind at his name, but aside of the fact that he was a formidable sorcerer in his own right, the mythological stereotypes and their limited scope couldn’t be further from the truth: Merlin was relatively young, for starters - a computer techie, graduate of UC Berkeley. Merlin was the illegitimate son of Lady Dara Sawall (nee Helgram) by Amber’s Prince Corwin, who was in turn son of King Oberon, who was son of the mad Dworkin of Chaos who was chosen consort of the Unicorn and co-creator of Amber, and – as far as anyone could tell – Order. In short, Merlin was a rather ‘modern’, smart, savvy man with powerful connections on both sides, and, from Mandor’s accounts of him, a fairly nice guy to boot. At least as far as native Chaosians were concerned. Perhaps it was just a remnant of her earth-thinking, but it seemed to follow even out here that extreme levels of power tended to make people go a little funny; it just went with the territory.  
  
She was definitely concerned that Mandor had felt that this level of preparation and presentation was necessary just to meet him! Of course, she didn’t have the full details of this plan of his, either; there was definitely more going on here than she had been told but for once she was fully aware of it. Sarah thought of Sofi then and sighed, pinning that stupid-looking costume brooch to her sumptuous, Sawall-blue evening gown. She knew she was going to be ruing the fact that she had had no taste as a child for the rest of her adult life if she had to keep displaying the thing like this; even the physical shape had completely resisted the changes of her initial hellride here. It was going to look gaudy and cheap forever. Perhaps it would be less bothersome if the item were actually useful; it had tested positive for considerable latent power but Suhuy had concluded early on that it was too unstable for her use under any normal circumstances. Still, she had to keep it with her anyway. The gown was almost nice enough to distract from it, though; it had an oval neckline and short, puffed sleeves – the most skin she’d shown for the better part of a year (she felt almost exposed despite how modest it really was) – a lightly fitted bodice, and just piles of flowing satin in the skirt. If it had been any poofier it would have been reminiscent of…nope she wasn’t going there. Not right now. Too much else to think about.  
  
Sarah had had plenty of practice magically disguising her visage and had gotten markedly quicker and more confident of the process, but it was still mildly annoying to have to mentally labor so hard at an action that was second-nature for those around her who could literally change their real bodies in seconds. It took ten of the proscribed thirty minutes to complete this process alone, but soon Sarah was examining her handiwork in the sizable mirror at her vanity. She had never cared for the more demonic-looking shapes, and after extended debate over a long period of time, Lord Suhuy had finally settled on a compromise: dragons. It didn’t matter what kind - the result didn’t even have to look fearsome (although the trait was considered more attractive by Chaosian standards of beauty) - as long as it was big and reptilian, it was acceptable. She had actually never told him of her brief daytrip in Lizard Land, that this had been the first cloaking spell she had seen on herself, that she had liked the effect. Perhaps Mandor had mentioned it to him. Speaking of Mandor…  
  
Double-checking that she had everything with her one last time, Sarah exited her apartment and descended the staircase with great care; it still sort of threw her senses that she felt no different physically if she closed her eyes but her feet looked almost twice as large as usual, not to mention differently shaped; she could just see her altered, pointed toes sticking out beneath the skirt as well as a finned tail swishing slightly every now and then behind her. Walking like this could be tricky if she paid too much attention to the illusion.  
  
Mandor had only been waiting a few seconds in the library when he saw an immaculately gowned ice-blue water dragon emerge from Sarah’s apartment. It was fully scaled but sleek, with webbing between the elongated silver-clawed fingers and toes as well as about the head. There were fins here and there on her arms, and delicate gills in the sides of her neck fluttered open as she breathed. The face had the necessary saurian beaked maw, but the shape was possessed of a kind of feminine grace, and the sizable reptilian eyes were a striking deep blue.  
  
“Not bad at all,” he nodded appreciatively as she awkwardly picked her way down the stairs. “Sawall-blue eyes may be over-gilding the lily a bit, but the gills are a nice touch.” Once she reached the floor, he made a quick circuit around her to make sure all was as it should be, that she hadn’t missed any details, and was genuinely pleased with the result. At least she had been paying attention during those lessons.  
  
“Thank you,” Sarah replied quietly, eying the floor a little self-consciously. She had noted that he was also dressed to the hilt: the lavishly ornate deep-blue evening jacket ensemble again – it had to be the nicest thing he owned. “You know, I hadn’t planned on saying anything about this the first time I saw you wearing that jacket, but your…uh…shadow-counterpart, owns something very, very similar,” she smirked, remembering.  
  
“Oh, really,” Mandor sounded oddly amused. “How did it differ?”  
  
Sarah met his eyes again. “It was shinier, just coated in glitter – that thing was almost blinding!” she laughed.  
  
Mandor just closed his eyes momentarily, shaking his head with a small lip-smile. “The man is clearly more circus showman than he ever was a sorcerer – I’m rather sorry I gave him half a chance there - but I gather that particular quality could come in handy considering his ‘subjects’,” he idly quipped.  
  
His observations were cut short at the sudden appearance of a smallish golden ball of light that just materialized out of nowhere not five feet from where they stood; Mandor sensed its’ presence and glanced over. “Ah, here he is, right on time!”  
  
Sarah’s enlarged eyes widened at the thing hovering there in disbelief. “That’s Merlin?!”  
  
“Hardly,” the light answered for itself in a pleasant male register, “although I guess you could say I inherited my Dad’s voice.”  
  
“Sarah,” Mandor interjected with a wry smirk, “allow me to introduce you to Merlin’s most celebrated invention, The Ghostwheel, or Ghost for short. I won’t trouble you with any attempts to explain his mechanical operation – the prospect alone is enough to give me a headache – but suffice to say he is an extremely complex artificial intelligence computer. He was originally designed to catalog and index Shadow, but he has also proven rather capable of providing reliable, near-instantaneous transport to anywhere in the universes, like a virtually limitless trump that could easily pass the Shadow Earth Turing test, I am told. He has a large set of physical components, but Merlin has made a way for him to operate almost independently of his more mundane parts via his own trump.”  
  
“Amazing,” Sarah shook her head, astounded.  
  
“Thank you,” Ghost answered cheerily, then hovered closer to her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sarah. I’d like to talk with you sometime if my Dad allows it but right now we’d better hurry; he’s expecting you.”  
  
“Hello to you as well,” Mandor addressed it dryly. “Are you ever going to deign to acknowledge my existence again or do you intend to just keep ignoring me indefinitely?”  
  
“Dad says I must respect you, for you are my uncle in a sense, but I still don’t trust you, not after what you tried to do to him. I am only obligated to transport the girl to the palace. You can get there easily and quickly enough yourself from here; it’s not that far.”  
  
“I see,” Mandor replied, trying not to smile. “What did I tell you?” he turned to Sarah. “Something in common already!”  
  
The light jab hurt a little but Sarah supposed she sort of deserved that one. But there wasn’t much time to ponder the odd piece of information Ghost had dropped right beforehand; the light had zipped down to the floor and drawn a glowing golden line about three feet across, then shot into the air and made three more straight lines, creating a portal doorway in the middle of the room!  
  
“Just walk through me, Sarah,” Ghost prompted her.  
  
“Wait,” Mandor interrupted, “will you at least allow me to see exactly where you are taking her?”  
  
“Of course,” Ghost answered seriously, briefly panning the view out slightly so the destination could be better seen: it was the middle of a dark-colored but opulent hallway. The place was huge.  
  
“All right, I know where that is,” Mandor nodded. “Go ahead, Sarah; stay right there and wait for me. Try not to speak to anyone who passes or even make eye-contact if you can possibly help it. Ghost, would you mind keeping an eye on the young lady until I can get there since you refuse to allow me similar passage?”  
  
“You really don’t ever leave her alone, do you?” Ghost replied so bluntly it caught Sarah off-guard. “But of course I’ll keep her company. Come on, Sarah – nice cloaking spell, by-the-way, did you make that yourself?” he complimented her as she strode through the shining gateway. She turned around just in time to see Mandor ignite like Baked Alaska as he commenced the shift up into his elemental green fire form.  
  
“See you in five,” the flame-being said, then the portal imploded back into Ghost.  
  
“I know Mandor Sawall seems friendly enough but I don’t trust him,” he warned Sarah, “I never really did to begin with; I guess you could call it instinct, although I technically don’t have anything analogous built into me.”  
  
“What happened?” she asked quietly; there was no one about, but the last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself when she wasn’t even entirely sure of where she was! The hallway had a distinctive curve to it as well as an upward slope to the left. The outer wall was sleek and black like a perfect sheet of obsidian, and was slanted slightly inward. The floor at her feet was diamond-tiled onyx. There was a vague light filtering in through the near-black glass wall, but it was drowned out by more nearby sources of light, namely thick candelabras with stalactites of deep red wax, that ran along the ceiling at regular intervals, which was very high and terminated in an elongated acute angle.  
  
“He tried to control my Dad to get him to take the throne a few years back – him and Suhuy Swayvil and the Lady Dara. He meant to plant a magic ring on Dad, but Dad knew it for what it was somehow and never put it on. He’s forgiven Mandor, but I’m still leery.”  
  
This piece of confidence was something of a surprise; Sarah hadn’t been aware that this branch of the family was so close to the royal succession! Perhaps they had tried the claim due to his adopted father; there was some Swayvil on that side, but, to be honest, Sarah wasn’t really sure just how the process worked here. Nothing in Chaosian life was more stringently enforced and furiously complex than the pecking order of the nobility and the rules governing succession to the Throne of Chaos. While the traditional father-to-son was the law of the land, more often than not there were so many assassinations immediately following the death of the High King that picking a successor from the remaining men left standing became an arduously academic task - there were no less than six old families strong enough to gamble for it; Sawall had historically ranked second behind Swayvil. Sarah would have required several detailed family trees side-by-side for comparison to make any sense of the mess that far down the line. At any rate, beyond what was in the history books, no one really ever discussed the ‘runners up’ – the topic was considered gauche.  
  
“I think I’m beginning to understand,” Sarah smiled a little bitterly. “Mandor gave me a magic ring, too, but I wore mine for eight months straight until I was tipped off about it – but please don’t tell him that!” she hastily added, suddenly afraid that she had said too much.  
  
“I understand. Don’t worry; I’m only answerable to my Dad. Can I see it?”  
  
Sarah hesitated.  
  
“I won’t touch it; I just want to analyze the spell. It has to happen anyway.”  
  
“…I guess that would probably be alright,” she said guardedly, gingerly fishing out her trump deck from a hidden slit in the side of her skirt. Opening the pouch, she showed him the ring crammed into the bottom, stone-side-up. “I can’t even touch the thing without the Logrus or I just instantly put it on! Can you see well enough or should I try to take it out?”  
  
“I can see it fine where it is. I scan four separate spells wound tightly into the helix formation of the stone, but it would take my Dad to unravel them: the compulsion to wear it that you just mentioned, one that would lessen psychological shock and certain magical sensations, one that would encourage trust, and one to keep tabs on the wearer’s location and basic vitals and transmit the information to the one who set the spell – interesting, that part works just by proximity; it’s still functioning.”  
  
Sarah was surprised it was that simple, remembering the dark blue line she had seen running up her arm to her heart when she stood on The Revealer for Suhuy. Alright, so there was a tracking spell, but – really – not much else. “There isn’t anything in there that would engender affection?”  
  
“No, why?”  
  
She only shook her head, looking away. “Just curious.” She carefully put the trump pouch back.  
  
“I think I know why you asked. People tend to like Mandor in spite of themselves; Dad still does even. Speaking of my uncle, was there anything else you might want to ask me before he gets here? He should be arriving any minute now.”  
  
“I don’t suppose there’s any chance of getting breakfast that quickly; I had to sort of skip it this morning.”  
  
“I may be able to assist you - hang on.” Ghost pulsed and flickered for a moment, then suddenly said, “Hold out your hand.”  
  
Sarah presented one of her thin, clawed appendages, having absolutely no idea what to expect. The little ball of light dropped a white pill the size of a large multivitamin into her upturned blue-white palm. She eyed it a bit dubiously. “What is this?”  
  
“It’s a Jetson Breakfast.”  
  
Sarah stared at Ghost. “You can’t be serious! You’re telling me this is real?”  
  
“Yep – nano-dehydrated eggs, bacon, toast and orange juice. Bon appetit!”  
  
Her incredulous gaze dropped back to the tiny object in her altered hand. Even if it was (or had been at one time) technically food, she felt rather unsure of just how her digestive system would react to something this concentrated-down. “…not to sound ungrateful, but I think maybe I’ll just wait for lunch.”  
  
“No offense taken; it was only a suggestion. Pocket it anyway – might come in handy later. It’ll keep.”  
  
“Thanks, I think,” she said quietly, stowing it away in the trump pouch. Really, she needed to get a small purse.  
  
In seconds, a taller, green-flaming Mandor strode into the hallway through a portion of the left-hand wall between what appeared to be a bizarre floating aquarium inside the membrane of a bubble and an abstract sculpture representation of the Serpent of Chaos; there was a fair amount of art in here, scattered about.  
  
“Am I interrupting, Sarah?”  
  
“Not exactly,” she ruefully quipped.  
  
“Well,” Ghost interjected awkwardly, “I guess I should be returning to Dad. Until later, Sarah!”  
  
“Bye, Ghost!”  
  
He winked out.  
  
Mandor smirked at the automaton’s speedy exit. “Did he say anything interesting?”  
  
“A couple of things,” Sarah replied guardedly.  
  
Mandor just nodded. “I’m certain you’ll hear plenty before this day is over. Shall we? I’d offer my arm, but…” he gestured to the flames licking and crackling away; Sarah could actually feel considerable radiant heat coming off of him. “I normally use my ape-form for social visits that require it, but you still have bad memories associated with that one, I believe.”  
  
Sarah couldn’t meet his glowing, green gaze. He started off up the hallway at a relatively quick pace and she had to work to keep up.  
  
“You haven’t told me yet where we are and I didn’t want to ask Ghost for fear of sounding ignorant.”  
  
Mandor’s fiery eyes flicked briefly over his shoulder. “We are in the Thelbane, the palace of the High King of Chaos and the meeting quarters of our parliament, the Council,” he said definitively. No wonder they were dressed up! “Merlin will be with the Council hearing cases for a while longer today, but he squeezed an interview with you into his schedule because I asked him. I am affording you the singular opportunity to make a very powerful and sympathetic ally here. You require a liaison in the Courts – that much is non-negotiable; which of us it should be has a bit of leeway, however. You need to be on your very best behavior; it is essential that you make a favorable first-impression. If for any reason he is displeased with you, he never need see you again. He was not even obligated to honor my request, let alone provide you safe transport here; you must be sure to thank him properly. Once again I will warn you against looking anyone in the eye,” – they had just passed a couple of ferocious-looking demon-formed guards in black plate armor – “there are those who frequent the High King’s Court who make my psychic ability look like a cheap parlor-trick, and could read you like an open book in a instant.”  
  
Sarah only half-comprehended the true depth of what Mandor was so rapidly telling her and for once it felt terribly vital that she be able to understand it completely even though she couldn’t; it was like jumping into the middle of a story with only guesses for the background information. Perhaps Merlin would be more forthcoming.  
  
They had reached a pair of large, ornately carved red doors – they were so huge they ran straight up to the tall ceiling. Sarah swallowed in anticipation and apprehension. Whatever was on the other side of those ominous doors was their destination; she could feel it. The doors automatically opened slowly inward at their approach.  
  
“We have to pass through the Throne Room to reach him,” Mandor quietly hissed instruction. “Walk a full pace behind me and keep to my right. You will address the High King as Your Exalted Excellency, and nothing else. And address no one else. Is that understood?”  
  
Sarah nervously nodded assent. Mandor turned and momentarily bent to look her in the eye.  
  
“Just let me do the talking. You’ll be fine,” he whispered, quirking one of his secretive smiles; it did nothing to calm her nerves.  
  
Sarah took a deep breath and dared a quick glance into the gallery before studiously fixing her gaze to the polished black floor right in front of her: the immense circular Throne Room was filled with a nightmarish menagerie of creatures that could’ve been taken straight out of a Hieronymous Bosch painting! She felt and looked like a painfully innocent parody; these people were the real thing – all claws and fangs and horns and fur, individual lightning storms, fires, blizzards. Hideous faces and leathery wings abounded; she could only differentiate gender by clothing alone in many cases, and sometimes not even then! She felt their terrible collective scrutiny as Mandor entered the hall bold as brass once he was announced, and she carefully followed behind him as directed. There was much whispering but she could only catch a word here and there. That harrowing walk felt like it lasted forever; her heart was pounding in her throat by the time they reached the raised dais, the staired high throne of unmoving fire, and the lavishly-robed demon-formed figure seated upon it. Mandor bowed low and Sarah curtsied practically to the floor (at least the dress was large enough that she could get away with just doing a deep plié.)  
  
“Your Exalted Excellency,” Mandor’s voice rang about the room – the acoustics made this place almost an echo chamber – “may I present to you a recent recruit from deep in the Order-shadows, whom I have seen trained for your service. My greatest hope is that she should prove useful to you.”  
  
The figure on the throne sighed deeply, then spoke. “Very well. You may withdraw, Lord Mandor.”  
  
Mandor bowed once more and stayed in this posture as he commenced a measured backward retreat. Sarah began to get up as he passed her but he whispered, “Stay.” He then turned and strode quickly out of the room; the doors made an ominous-sounding quiet boom as they closed.  
  
What the heck had just happened?! Had he just left her here? Sarah did her best to keep her breathing from getting shaky; they only looked like monsters. Most of them, anyway.  
  
To complete her surprise, the High King addressed her – “Your native tongue is American English?” – in American English!  
  
It actually took her a moment to mentally shift gears. “…yes, your Exalted Excellency, but I have scarcely used it since my arrival here. I can converse adequately in Chaosian Thari, would this better please you.”  
  
What she had just told him was obviously the truth from her choice of vocabulary and grammar alone, considering her age.  
  
“Actually, I would prefer to converse with you in English,” he continued easily. “I get little opportunity to practice my own anymore and it’s gotten far rustier than yours. This also affords us a certain level of privacy: no one else in this entire hall can understand a single word I am uttering at present. Don’t be afraid; you may speak freely with me. Please rise.”  
  
Sarah stiffly got back to her feet, unable to shake the sense of lingering strangeness. The longer she heard the High King speak, the more she was certain that his voice was familiar but she was simply too nervous to place it.  
  
“I suppose I am at your disposal, your Exalted Excellency,” she continued, bewildered, “but to be perfectly truthful with you, I thought I was being brought here to meet Lord Merlin Sawall-”  
  
She was cut off by a handful of sudden gasps and it was all she could do to not look about her. Sarah had the terrible sinking feeling that she had just unwittingly committed a deadly faux pas within seconds of opening her mouth!  
  
The figure on the throne quietly laughed, shaking his head. “Mandor didn’t even tell you, then. I suppose it would’ve brought up more questions than he would have cared to answer. The man you are seeking is addressing you right now.”  
  
Sarah automatically looked up in shock despite the warning – he was smiling (she guessed that was a smile; it was a little too sharp to look friendly in her book) and he rose to his feet.  
  
“But perhaps we should have this conference elsewhere. Hold tight.”  
  
He raised his right hand and Sarah braced herself for a transport – a bright flash of light ripped through the room; she jumped slightly and found herself now in a much smaller room, albeit still circular, with all the walls made of the dark glass. Looking up she realized that they must be in the uppermost room of the Thelbane; the inside of the spike of the top was in sight! There was a circular metal table and deep purple cushioned office swivel chairs about it. No visible light source but plenty of light – she was used to this by now – the rest of the scant furnishings were in a sort of modernist-industrial style.  
  
“Have a seat anywhere, Sarah,” Merlin gestured widely to the chairs. “This room just drives a few of my nobles up the wall, which is precisely why I chose to decorate it like this,” he mentioned offhandedly, “it’s fun to be able to rattle certain troublesome individuals occasionally – one of the few perks of the job, really. Now, I can tell that you put a lot of thought and effort into that cloaking spell but you’re definitely beginning to show the strain of holding it up. Go ahead and drop it; you won’t be needing it anymore today. I’ll shift down, too.”  
  
Sarah pulled the release on the illusion and sagged back in a chair in relief as it dissolved away; she had never had to sustain one for so long! To her surprise, Merlin seemed to be taking his time shifting into his humanoid form; she had gotten used to seeing Mandor and even ancient Suhuy perform the same maneuver in seconds. He noted her curious attention.  
  
“I know, even with the extra power at my disposal it still takes me longer to do this; has to do with being only half-Chaosian. It’ll be complete in about another minute.”  
  
Sarah nodded mutely, politely looking away. She still couldn’t make heads or tails of what was going on here but at least she appeared to finally be in the presence of someone who wasn’t afraid to speak and deal plainly.  
  
“There,” he finally announced – Sarah looked back up just in time to see him adjust his belt in a few notches before sitting down across from her. Merlin Barimen-Sawall looked like he might be in his early thirties for real; there was a marked lack of age in his expression, his bearing. He had medium-length dark brown hair, warm brown eyes and a short, well-kept beard and mustache that made him look just a touch older than he was. His tunic was a deep violet, same shade as the chairs – obviously his heraldic coloring. It was probably just the enforced period of isolation but he struck Sarah as remarkably handsome. He was studying her as well, although perhaps with more concern than interest. After a moment longer he just shook his head.  
  
“I still can’t believe you made it through that imperfect Logrus in one piece, let alone all the rest of what you’ve been doing since. Non-Amberites can survive the Broken Pattern – even a handful of humans have – but what you unwittingly accomplished is just flat-out unheard of. Of course I’ve heard most of your story already – at least the version brother Mandor was willing to relate to me – but I want to hear your side, especially in light of how things went down at the end there. He tells me you have a magically charged artifact that corroborates as evidence in your plaint against him that he has been controlling you. Is this true? I have personal reason to suspect you’re probably onto something here. It’s okay to tell me the truth; nobody’s going to get hurt, I promise.”  
  
Sarah felt rotten: her guardian had all but incriminated himself to give her the chance to work with someone she might get along with better, someone nearer her age, who was at the top of the social ladder, no less. Then she almost slapped herself for thinking that: he was just trying to hand her off gracefully because she had become too dangerous!  
  
_He wouldn’t hesitate to dispose of you…_ She hated that Jareth seemed to know him this well, although he seemed to have a certain amount of reason to hate Mandor himself and was subsequently out to ruin his reputation when and where he could. It still didn’t feel good, though, especially after all that time they’d spent together, all the stuff they’d done. Even if parts of it had been a little on the subversive side… She sighed, staring at the table.  
  
“I know what I’m about to ask is going to sound completely insane to you, but… do you think he’ll ever forgive me?”  
  
She dared a glance up; Merlin was trying very hard not to smile. And failing miserably. He leaned back into his chair, gripping the armrests.  
  
“Let me put it this way: the last time he and I tried to kill each other in earnest – when it was over, he invited me over to his place for lunch and I stayed of my own freewill as his guest for an entire month. It was one of the better visits we’ve had in recent years. The point being, I think he’s simply too smart to hold a grudge; they usually don’t serve him well. Does that answer your question?”  
  
“I think so,” she nodded quietly, thoroughly embarrassed.  
  
“That admission alone would be enough proof for me, but can I see the ring he gave you, please?”  
  
“Of course – be my guest,” she said, getting out her trump pouch and sliding the whole thing across the table to him. “It’s in the bottom – be careful; the compulsion’s really bad.”  
  
“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing,” he reassured her, opening the pouch and looking inside. “There you are.” Raising the back of his right hand, Sarah noticed the oddly angular ring he wore upon his middle finger; she had been standing too far away to see it clearly the first time. A bright strand of energy suddenly shot out of it and levitated Mandor’s ring out of her trump pouch! She watched, fascinated, as it turned in midair and the beam locked onto the black stone. Merlin closed his eyes, probably the better to concentrate.  
  
“…oh yeah, I can definitely see how you would get that impression – something like this would really color your thinking, possibly even keep you from thinking too much. But it’s actually ambivalent on the whole, a multipurpose device, some of which had a halfway decent motive in construction, but it’s all too mixed together now, and besides I’m getting some weird readings off the outside of it, almost like someone else tried to influence the thing. I can turn off the compulsion and trust spells for you right now and clean the rest of it up, but the others might even serve you well in the future; the anti-trauma spell most likely saved your sanity right up front and could be a godsend if you’re ever under serious duress again. I’ll add a lynchpin spell so you can turn on and off the tracking device and show you how to operate it later.”  
  
He went quiet again as a few more glowing lines came out of his ring and intersected with Mandor’s. Sarah couldn’t tell what was happening but something clearly was because every so often she would hear a light noise like someone clinking against crystal. After some time the lines receded and he opened his eyes again; the ring dropped and he caught it.  
  
“There, that should be significantly better. I want you to try it again right here and now and tell me what you feel,” he instructed, shoving it back across to her.  
  
Sarah had to fight down her nerves, bracing herself to undergo the spell once more, only this time with an almost complete stranger; life had definitely made her gun-shy around this kind of stuff. Hesitantly, she forced herself to touch it…and nothing happened. Letting out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding, she carefully slid it onto her ring finger – and felt the immediate difference. In fact, all she could actually feel was the trauma-reducer, and now that it was pretty much by itself she could better feel it for what it really was. The effect might’ve been comparable to a mild tranquilizer, only without the fatigue. She had to warily admit that such a thing could have its uses if her life continued to be this weird; it was sort of like having a panic button.  
  
“It’s definitely calming but I still don’t think I’d want to wear it all the time, given the choice,” she pronounced, easily removing it again.  
  
“Good; that’s exactly what I was hoping for. If you felt that you’d really needed it I would’ve had to reconsider what I’d had in mind for…you have something else in here?” he noted the tiny bulge remaining in the leather of her trump pouch.  
  
“Oh, yeah,” Sarah laughed, remembering. “I really like your Ghostwheel – oh, I nearly forgot! Thank you for the lift here; it was really appreciated. It’s not easy for me to be outside in this world, apparently.”  
  
“It’s not just you – normal humans can’t be outside here without serious protection – and you’re welcome,” he smiled; he had a really good one in his human form, Sarah reflected. “I like him, too. Ghost is probably the nicest person I know, which is both elating and depressing since I basically made him from scratch. What were you saying about him?”  
  
“He found that thing for me somewhere; I’d hesitate to guess. It’s allegedly an entire breakfast, extremely condensed down into pill form. I was too busy attempting to best my guardian earlier this morning to really eat; Ghost tried to help. I wasn’t sure if it was safe to take, but he said it would last and pressed me to keep it. What do you think?”  
  
Merlin dug it out to examine it; his expression wasn’t quite as disbelieving as Sarah’s but he did look slightly bewildered. “I have to admit with some embarrassment that I would have never thought of this by myself. I sure wouldn’t take it with less than 20oz of liquid – it would suck up all of your gastric juices otherwise – but something similar could very well solve the ration problems we’ve always experienced with our troops in the field. There are too many regions of desert and wasteland at the far edges out here and for significant portions of the run between Chaos and the Order shadows; supply issues have always slowed us down in the past.” He replaced it in the pouch and slid it back over to her. “I’d take it with a really big glass of water but it should actually work. Save it for a rainy day, though. Mandor says you’re from New York?”  
  
“Just north of the City, yeah.”  
  
Merlin summoned and reached into a black void Sarah had grown rather accustomed to seeing, and, after a short time, extracted a brown paper bag, followed a few seconds later by two small coffees - creamer and sugar already added - the blue design on the paper cups heart-wrenchingly familiar. He passed her one along with a foil-wrapped sandwich that turned out to be a bagel-and-schmear. She smiled wanly, nostalgic.  
  
“Thanks. My mom used to get me this exact same breakfast when she used to take me downtown, before she… she’s an actress,” she covered, letting her hunger take over as she dug in.  
  
“I know; I’m sorry. My parents have never seen eye-to-eye, either. It will get easier for you, though. Speaking of hard, do you have any idea just how difficult it is get a decent cup of joe out here?” he laughed. “Darn college for getting me started on this stuff,” he observed, taking a good swallow of his own.  
  
“I’d been meaning to ask,” Sarah managed between bites, “just how in the world did you ever wind up going to a Shadow Earth college in the first place? Surely there’s higher education to be had out here?”  
  
Merlin sighed, staring off into space. “I never even met my biological father until I was eighteen, and then it was at Patternfall. He disappeared shortly after the signing of the treaties; nobody seemed to know where he was, and once I had passed my initiation with the Logrus I made up my mind to try and find him. It was logical to use Shadow Earth as a base of operations; most of the royal family of Amber frequents it like a vacation home from time-to-time and Prince Corwin had lived there continuously for no less than nine centuries – albeit under unfavorable circumstances, but that’s another story. I felt he was bound to return eventually, and in the meantime I set about immersing myself in the culture of his most recently chosen country of habitation – yours – and then got interested in computer science while I was there. I had nothing better to be doing; I was the bastard son of a noblewoman, so far down the…oh, what’s the word again,” he struggled a moment, but quickly remembered, “the totem pole, at the time, that it hardly mattered to anyone back home what I did. So I bettered myself – ran track for Berkeley, got a masters degree in computer engineering, had a failed serious relationship with dire consequences – the whole lot. I finally located my father years later but it wasn’t on Earth, and now he’s disappeared on me again. I know that he cares – he’d even take Mom back still if she’d forgive him (though she never will) – but I think he’s been cooped up in one place long enough that he’s gotten wanderlust, and frankly considering what he’s been through I don’t blame him at all. But that’s the real reason I went there, that and general curiosity of how the other half live, I suppose, being half-Amberite myself. And the degree has certainly served me well; Ghost has nearly completed cataloging the Chaos-side of Shadow for me and he’s working on the Order-side now with King Random’s limited permission, with the proviso that I have to willingly share the information should it ever become necessary for defense.”  
  
“I still don’t understand how you got to be king, though,” Sarah took a sip of coffee; she didn’t drink it very often back home, but this wasn’t half-bad. “Ghost dropped something about Lord Mandor trying to compel you to take the crown and failing. How did it happen?” Seeing Merlin cross his arms and raise his eyebrows, Sarah was suddenly afraid she may have just crossed a line; he had been so easy-going with her she had almost begun to forget just who she was addressing. “Forgive me for bringing up a touchy subject, your Exalted Excellency,” she hastily apologized, hoping it wasn’t too late, “I didn’t realize it was since it was presented so casually to me.”  
  
She literally held her breath until she saw the muscles in his arms relax again as he sighed himself with a rueful lip-smile.  
  
“Remind me to have a little chat with Ghost; he needs to learn who it’s appropriate to bring these things up with, although he was probably just noting what he saw as an analogous similarity aloud. Well,” he took another sip of his own coffee, “the aftermath of old Swayvil’s death was a politically-charged bloodbath over the period of a few months - which I’m rather grateful I missed out on for the most part by being detained by my own problems, far from the Courts. I told you I was so far down the list I didn’t even think of my absence; I returned to discover that on top of the expected… ‘house-cleaning’, shall we say, no less than twenty-three noblemen had been assassinated in order of succession.”  
  
Sarah nearly chocked on her coffee, glancing up at him in horror.  
  
“And you thought election years were bad news,” he quipped, trying to downplay it a little.  
  
“Who did all of that?!”  
  
“Probably a collection of agents from all the major houses, most likely including mine as well by proxy. Nearly all of the murders were impossible to pin on anyone – usually is when this sort of thing happens.” He watched her innocuously for a beat, then continued. “Although, thinking back, I’m nearly certain that Mandor personally took out the second-to-the-last ahead of me, and right at Swayvil’s state funeral, no less; the guy was one of the pallbearers – took a Chaos-blade dagger to the back. I mean, they were both right down front - it was just too clean and professional - and he was acting a little strangely afterwards. There’s a very specific high-skill manner for thrusting that particular blade so that the victim doesn’t even feel it enter; they just hit the floor, which is exactly what happened. When the last guy ahead of me in the succession got tripped by somebody else and took the dive over the Pit with the casket I got the hell out of there fast, believe you me – I was next! Although I suppose as long as we’re opening this jar of leeches I should mention that it really should’ve been Mandor next, not me. It should be him in here talking to you; the crown’s his by rights but he removed himself from the lineup ages ago. Probably saved his life; he was too smart to try and grab the throne personally.”  
  
Sarah leaned back into her chair, astounded. The man she had been living with, eating with, fencing with, joking with – was the rightful High King!!! As well as an active murderer… she shuddered just thinking about it. The effects of the ring nothing; she was beginning to seriously doubt that she had ever really known Mandor Sawall at all.  
  
Merlin knew that look. “I can’t justify his actions for him, but you need to realize that my hands aren’t exactly clean, either, Sarah, although in my own defense those that I’ve hurried along to the Abyss were actively trying to kill me. It’s something I’m not personally proud of, but it’s unfortunately a pretty common state-of-affairs for us. Mandor is very cool-headed and long-sighted; he’s not about to knife just anybody without having what he would consider a very good reason. Advancing the position-in-life of his favorite brother – who would have inherited next-to-nothing otherwise - made the cut, apparently,” he added quietly, looking away before continuing. “Of course, why risk being the target on the throne when you can rule just as effectively from behind it? That was the general idea – that he and others directly benefited as well.” He looked dead into Sarah’s eyes; for a moment she saw the Chaos-ness in his expression. “I accepted it on my own terms, apart from any of them. If I hadn’t, it would’ve been my crazy little brother Jurt, and most likely insurrection and another messy war with Amber. My personal freedom wasn’t worth more than people I loved on both sides getting hurt, to say nothing of all the shadow-worlds inbetween. I was the only one here who gave a shit about Order, about all of us! And in the end the Logrus Herself backed my ascension to the Throne. That’s why!”  
  
It nearly seemed as if he was trying to convince himself and not his intended audience; a second later he deflated a little. “I didn’t mean to get on a high-horse like that,” he exhaled in lieu of apology, running a hand through his hair, “I’ve just been facing down that question for several years now from people with far less friendly intent; this reaction is starting to get automatic and I can’t afford for it to be.”  
  
Sarah knew then that she was witnessing a very private battle, one being waged within a man willing to sacrifice himself to sustain the system.  
  
A model Chaosian, in other words.  
  
“But I’ve rattled on for far too long about me,” he interrupted her thoughts, “when we’re really here to talk about you.”  
  
And they did so, in depth, for the next half-hour, going over everything from bits of personal history that Mandor had left out to her training and personal arcane strengths and weaknesses, as well as her previous impressions of both her tutor and her ‘guardian’. The thought of his elder brother having a ward at all, let alone one thrust upon him by the Logrus from an Order-based shadow, was simply too novel for Merlin; the man had had virtually no practical experience with children of any age since his own step-brothers had been small, but unsurprisingly he seemed to have thrown himself heartily into the role and honed it to precision as he had honed so many talents and abilities throughout his long life. Even with the extra detrimental knowledge she had just acquired about him, Sarah was having a surprisingly hard time not getting emotional recounting what seemed to her good times spent in the Chaos lord’s company. She was rather careful not to mention her misadventure with the Goblin King; she just calmly waffled over the information as best she could, and, to her profound relief, the High King didn’t press her on it.  
  
An odd impression was slowly forming in the back of Merlin’s mind the longer he listened to her, mulling over a wild theory Mandor had suggested to him about her during his initial call this morning, and at length he spoke his mind.  
  
“Sarah,” he rocked back in his chair again, steepling his fingers, “what I’m about to say to you should not be as much of a shock as it would have been once, now that you have considerable knowledge of the nature of Shadow and that which lies at each end, which you have mostly acquired at the hands of my formidably capable uncle. Both he and Mandor are of the same mind as to why you survived your initiation into the Logrus in the first place, and hearing your story firsthand I am inclined to agree with them: you made it because your original is an Amberite, most likely living in the city of Amber herself or at least the Golden Circle city-states in nearby shadows. In fact, it may be why you were chosen. Mandor did not tell you how many of your doubles he found before choosing the one that seemed most like you in physiognomy who was willing to take your place, and they got more numerous the closer he ventured to Amber. There is only ever one explanation for having that many.”  
  
“My…original!” The thought alone made Sarah’s heart race; she suddenly wished she hadn’t had that caffeine!  
  
“It’s no secret that we on the far edge have been collectively suffering from the power shifting too far toward Order since Patternfall, and while many plans to pull it back toward us have failed for numerous reasons since (and I have to admit to being one of them; a few of the proposed plots were too extreme to remain stable and had to be nipped in the bud, so-to-speak) there has been the constant threat of the Pattern pulling it even further out of balance by any number of means, even by gaining new initiates. My late grandfather Oberon Barimen was… how shall we say, prolific, and his illegitimate children are still being discovered. My Amberite aunts and uncles on the other hand have discovered birth control for the most part, but my cousin Martin was the result of such a mistake. It is certainly conceivable – sorry, Sarah, I didn’t mean to pun that badly – but I think you know what I’m driving at. Chances are it’s a new player we’re not even aware of as yet, a girl even younger than you when one figures in the necessary time-difference from Shadow Earth, probably about ten years old, maybe even younger. If the Logrus is going to this kind of trouble to recruit one of this child’s shadows, only the powers know what might be on the verge of happening out there. A significant tip right now could be catastrophic for us all. I am not seeking victory or glory, but stability here – know that.”  
  
“But how do I fit into all of this?” Sarah asked, bewildered and feeling very small, like a playing piece. _‘You’re going to be used badly, little girl…don’t be used blindly.’_ Perhaps Jareth had known what he was talking about.  
  
“I honestly don’t know, but I’d like to, and I can think of one rather obvious way to find out. Of course, this would be contingent on your switching loyalties from Lord Mandor over to me – the Crown – and being willing to prove it by performing a relatively easy job for me first: bring me the broomstick of the Witch of the West!”  
  
At Sarah’s dazed, shocked expression, Merlin laughed.  
  
“Nah, I’m just messing with you a little, I couldn’t resist. Heard you like ‘The Wizard of Oz’, too. Actually, I’ve been dying to say that to somebody who would get it ever since my coronation!”  
  
Sarah smirked that she had been taken in so easily; he really was fairly young. Then the piece of intelligence suddenly struck her as very bizarre. “Wait a minute – Lord Mandor doesn’t even speak English, let alone visit Shadow Earth! How in the world had he ever even known about that?!”  
  
“He didn’t,” Merlin answered simply, “he literally picked that from your mind the day he met you. I’ll have to float him a Thari edition; he’ll read anything.”  
  
“So I gather,” Sarah quietly noted, looking down at her lap.  
  
“Oh, that’s right, you were camped out in his library. I’m sorry that situation played out like it did, but in all seriousness I’m offering you the chance to have a bigger role and, hopefully, more autonomy in this game.”  
  
“Doing what?” she asked cautiously, meeting his eyes again; he smiled.  
  
“I’d like for you to be a spy for me in Amber.”  
  
Sarah nearly laughed, then realized he wasn’t joking this time. “Oh my gosh, you’re not kidding! But what about the peace treaties?”  
  
Merlin shrugged and finished his coffee. “We still spy on them, they still spy on us – it’s something modern civilized countries do,” he pointedly glanced at her with a decidedly good-natured spark of mischief in his eye. “I’m not asking you to break into Castle Amber and steal state secrets; I’m asking you to locate a preteen girl who in all likelihood looks and thinks quite a lot like you do, figure out what she’s up to, and report back so I have a better feel for just what precisely I’m trying to anticipate here. The probable danger level is very low; I wouldn’t even consider sending you otherwise. And I can ensure that if for any reason you do get into trouble no harm can possibly befall you. Will you at least think about it? As soon as we’re finished here I have to go and have a serious heart-to-heart with my dear older brother and try to convince him that I’m doing the right thing as far as you’re concerned. Just between ourselves, I think getting you away from those two may not be such a bad idea; this is a clean, honorable way to do it that neither of them could possibly refute just due to my rank alone if nothing else.”  
  
Sarah seriously mulled over the implications of what he was asking her. “How long would I be in Amber?”  
  
“Ten days tops – anything longer would look suspicious to the general populace. It is not uncommon for people from the Golden Circle city-states to take short vacations in Amber, if not come there to work; you would be posing as one of them. You still want to become an actress, right? Think of this as work experience. You’d be outfitted for the part appropriately and everything; I can even get a dialect coach to give you the rundown on the differences in Amberite Thari – it’s mostly a matter of inflection of certain words, but there are about a dozen common words that are completely different and you’ll have to learn them. But regardless of your potential success or failure, I intend to send you home immediately afterwards; I gather this was more-or-less what Mandor had had in mind also, although with rather different aims. Beyond that, there’s no rule or law that says you can’t use your Chaos-based powers on Shadow Earth, albeit very discreetly. Were I you, I’d take a geology or archeology major in college; you should be able to locate and dig up pretty much anything you set your mind to. Or, if you’re actually serious about pursuing the arts as a living and not just a hobby, you could make a bucket of real diamonds out of a few bags of charcoal briquettes and invest them overseas, at which point I might be willing to aid you as your first patron; my father has some excellent standing contacts in Belgium who are used to doing business with him without asking too many questions – with just a few minor shifts I can easily pass for my old man,” he smiled rakishly. “But I won’t just do it so you can kick back – you would have to be actively working at becoming an actress, do you understand me?”  
  
Sarah nodded enthusiastically, wide-eyed; she was near tears. It was all too wonderful – she could afford Julliard and not even have to work during college!  
  
“In any event, you don’t have to decide for a few more years – I want you to finish your basic education first – but if all goes as I think it will, I’ll be calling on you when you turn eighteen to see what you want to do with your life.” He suddenly stopped. “Mandor seriously didn’t mention any of this?”  
  
She shook her head no.  
  
“Well, he probably didn’t want you getting distracted prematurely while you were still in training, but I think at this point you should at least be made aware of the option. Which brings us to another crucial topic: who to trust when you get back to Earth. Great power, great responsibility, blah blah blah – the point is, you can’t go freely blabbing about all of this stuff as well as your having magical powers to just anybody you please for what I hope are rather obvious reasons, not least of which is the off-chance that an Amberite spy could single you out if you make enough ruckus. The harder part of this unfortunately is deciding who to trust; in all seriousness, I think the only person who might be safe enough would be whom you intend to marry, should you ever choose to do so. I made the mistake of not even trusting that person – a girl I met in college – and I lost her, ironically enough, to Jurt, who wasn’t afraid to tell her everything. But it can be a hard call. Nobody warned me; I’m warning you.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
He shrugged it off. “I was young and stupid; it happens. At any rate, you should be pretty well set up once you get home. There’s no foreseeable reason for you to have to trek all the way back here unless you miss me,” he smiled teasingly, “and if I ever do need to get messages across to you, I can do so easily using the Ghostwheel once I know where you live. That is, if you accept,” he added tentatively.  
  
Sarah looked away and lightly bit her lower lip, thinking; it was a heck of a proposition. She knew that her answer would probably be yes – it seemed to be the fastest way out of Dodge and, from what she had seen, Merlin seemed a lot more honest and open; she felt pretty safe dealing with him. But she couldn’t help but feel sort of wildly incompetent for the job he had in mind for her. If only she knew more about what she would be expected to do there, how to really go about the operation! If only there was more time! But of course there wasn’t.  
  
“I’m leaning toward a ‘yes’, but I’d feel a lot more comfortable about this if I had better details. I’m afraid you might be really overestimating whom you’re working with here, your Exalted Excellency,” she laughed a bit nervously.  
  
Merlin smiled, shaking his head. “You’re selling yourself short – you’re perfect for what I have in mind – but I totally understand. I wouldn’t dream of sending you into a situation like that without making absolutely certain that you knew beforehand what you needed to do. Go ahead and think it over,” he stated, standing; Sarah rose as protocol demanded. “I shouldn’t be too long in speaking to my brother; I already briefed him thoroughly before I even allowed him to bring you here. At the very least I’m not about to let him get away with just dropping you off like a sack of potatoes; he’s going to hear my mind on this. There’s no reason we can’t all deal with this situation as rational adults. Do you need anything else quick before I leave? I’m just parking you in here for right now; I’ll be coming straight back just as soon as I’m finished.”  
  
“No, I’ll be fine,” Sarah began, but changed her mind, “but now that you mention it, I can’t help but notice that the exterior walls here are translucent if not transparent, but it’s been so brightly lit in all the rooms I’ve been in so far… is it possible to look out?” she screwed up the courage to ask. “I’ve only seen drawings of this place, and the view from the pinnacle of the Thelbane has got to be incredible. If there is one.”  
  
Merlin smirked, nodding. “The glass is nearly black, but you should be able to see something if we extinguish the lights. You’d be alright with being alone up here in this room in the dark?” he asked, not totally believing that she would be.  
  
“If I can turn the light back on myself; I’ve grown pretty accustomed to this type over at Mandorways. Can anyone operate them or only just you?”  
  
“Anyone with training: make like you’re pulling down on a cord or chain that’s attached to an electric lamp,” he prompted her; Sarah did so and they were immediately plunged into darkness…but it wasn’t total, she gradually realized. “Just do it again when you want it back on,” she heard his voice. “I promise I’ll be back soon.”  
  
The silence that followed was palpable. He was gone.  
  
She was alone.  
  
Sarah fought down an involuntary shiver; this place felt downright alien compared to even the magical living quarters and various shadow worlds that she had gotten used to over the previous months. She tried to write off the reaction as being due to the relative smallness of the chamber (which truthfully might’ve been part of it – that coupled with the lack of obvious ventilation), but really it was the knowledge of where she was actually standing. Before Earth formed, before Amber and Order came into being, this tower had been here - the Thelbane, the black Needle of Chaos, a beacon of intelligent life at the very knife-edge of existence. Just standing here felt like stepping back in time by at least a billion years, suddenly thrust into the extreme distant past. She took a steadying breath, then felt her way over to the thick, dark glass wall. Merlin had been right; it was rather difficult to see through, not unlike wearing dark sunglasses at night, but after about a minute or two her eyes began to adjust to the liminal lighting conditions…  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
While he had been born and raised in the Courts proper, Merlin Barimen-Sawall still had enough Order in his blood to make using the Ways inside the Thelbane fairly uncomfortable (which really said something about just how delicately tentative ‘reality’ was this close to the Pit); fortunately, his increased knowledge of the practical uses of his spikard (the unaffiliated power source Sarah had witnessed him utilizing) effectively allowed him to bystep the problem completely. In moments he joined Mandor in the sitting area of one of the formal reception rooms further down the tower.  
  
Upon seeing the shimmering in the air that signaled an immediate trump-in, Mandor rose from the black marble bench he had been occupying next to the immense ornate fireplace - his own form still ablaze with green light - and bowed low as Merlin materialized.  
  
“Was the human child to your liking, your Excellency?”  
  
He was doing everything just right, but there was a good-natured teasing in his fiery gaze as he straightened up again. Noting Merlin’s choice of casual human-form (lazy, but he was the King) he quickly commenced his own shift down. Merlin walked over to join him with a half-disbelieving expression on his face.  
  
“You have got to teach me your trick with women one of these years.”  
  
“I beg your pardon?”  
  
“You all but kidnapped this teenage girl, dragged her all the way across the universes, practically imprisoned her in your villa, and forced her to undergo some of the most difficult training in the known worlds! Through some whim of fate she finds out she’s being set up, she confronts you about it, you abandon her here, and do you know what the first question she had for me was the moment we were alone together? Did I think you would forgive her! When you first told me of this mess, I fully anticipated having to deal with a Stockholm Syndrome victim. Well, I just finished questioning that poor kid thoroughly; she doesn’t display a trace! The affection she feels toward you is genuine, natural even! How in Chaos did you pull that off?!”  
  
Mandor dropped his gaze. “It was truly the simplest thing in the world, your Excellency,” he gave answer quietly. “I took better care of her than she had ever had, even in her supposedly ‘normal’ existence. She required filial structure for personal stability; I accommodated her need. None of this is really much of a secret, Merlin,” he added frankly, making conspiratorial eye-contact, “although in my defense, a man blessed with your visage hardly has need for an arsenal when dealing with the fair sex. Nevertheless, since you are now my liege and you ask it of me, I will tell you: pay scrupulous attention, but don’t smother; remember all the details, but in particular the trivial ones; carefully discern what they actually require to thrive and provide it well; introduce special surprises on occasion, but timed at interval so the events don’t lose their specialness; give generously of yourself and your time whilst keeping in mind the previous warning of oversaturation – don’t allow your presence be taken for granted, either; the same goes for making them feel special. You should be able to improvise from there,” he gave his signature, crooked smile.  
  
“And that’s precisely the other side to this situation that doesn’t wash; you’re usually scarily prepared for everything,” Merlin countered, going to sit down by the fire himself; Mandor followed suit. “I know you. I know you well enough to know that you could have easily erased the memory of that disastrous confrontation this morning and done it so cleanly that she literally would have never known about it. It seems even stranger in light of just how meticulously you’d kept her up until this point, especially since I know you did it to her at least once prior; I could tell from the way she described what was left of the incident. What happened?”  
  
For all his legendary grace and charm, there were times that Mandor Sawall simply turned in on himself, shutting his proverbial shell like an oyster. This was one of those rare occasions; he quietly stared into the flames, as motionless as if he had just become a statue to go with the marble bench.  
  
“Oh, no,” Merlin groaned with a small rueful smile, “it was that once a decade when your heart goes soft on you right when you can’t afford for it to, wasn’t it?” No response was an affirmative; that was genuinely embarrassing. An oddly revealing parallel thought suddenly hit Merlin and the smile dropped right off his face in amazement. “That’s why you never tried for the Throne yourself! Even if it hadn’t been me in the way, you still wouldn’t have done it! This propensity actually scares you.” It was a statement, not a question.  
  
The statue of a man seated next to him smiled a little wanly in acknowledgement. “It would appear that you know me too well, little brother; I shall have to be more cautious of you in the future.” Such a statement would be construed as negative elsewhere, but in the Courts this was high praise indeed. “At any rate, it’s not the strongest of traits for an aspiring ruthless dictator; in fact it could easily prove fatal.” His gaze flicked over to him. “How are you holding up, Merlin?”  
  
General paranoia unfortunately was the hallmark of true maturity around here and for good reason. Merlin was painfully aware that his elder brother would just as soon play him as that human girl he currently had up in his conference room. It was just the way things were done. For a brief moment he wished that they were younger once more; he and Mandor had once been close friends. But, as had just been pointed out, this was no place or position for sentimentality.  
  
“There haven’t been any major feuds between the Houses lately and our side of the universe is still standing. I guess I’m handling it alright,” Merlin quipped; Mandor smiled knowingly and nodded – good, he was willing to back down. To business, then.  
  
“Have you given any further thought to my hypothesis about the girl?”  
  
“Oh, you’re probably onto something, but in the absence of her original and DNA testing all we really have is guesswork. It stands to reason, though. From what I know of Amberite bloodlines, the genetics are so dominant that any offspring will invariably resemble the royal parent completely regardless to the appearance of the other partner, so I suspect we can narrow it down a little. I think we can rule out Deirdre and Eric; if Aunt Deirdre had ever had any kids you can bet she would’ve brought them around no matter who had sired them – she was pretty progressive – and Uncle Eric was too busy being a power-hungry megalomaniac for any woman to be actually interested in him.”  
  
“Even…”  
  
“Nope, not the type,” Merlin brushed the suggestion off. “Come to think of it, neither is Julian; as far as I can tell, his only interests are his hunting, his dogs, and his troops in the Arden forest. And Gérard’s never shown much interest in women, either. You know I wonder about some of these guys...”  
  
“And then there’s your old man. You don’t suppose…” Mandor raised one snowy eyebrow.  
  
“As we would say on Shadow Earth, ‘once bitten, twice shy’,” Merlin smiled bitterly. “I think Dad learned his lesson the hard way. And that goes double for Uncle Benedict.” Merlin’s mother Dara was Benedict of Amber’s great-granddaughter via a carefully staged Chaosian hook-up plot; Merlin himself was a successful product of the continued breeding experiment. “That leaves Caine; he’s probably our best bet, really. He traveled extensively with the navy in the Golden Circle and had numerous mistresses – definitely his father’s son. If this situation ever comes to the point that we have to legally pursue it with King Random, Uncle Caine would be a relatively safe tack to try; even in the royal house, libel laws are significantly reduced for the dead.”  
  
Mandor seemed to nod assent. “And what of Sarah?”  
  
Merlin’s gaze turned cold. “Yes, about her. I know to you she’s just another shadow to do with what you will, but I really don’t appreciate your treating her like chattel to be bartered off. It’s bad enough that I have to put up with this behavior from the powers but I’m not about to let it stand in my immediate family if I can help it. I’ve offered her a job; if she accepts it, I am going to get her as far away from here as possible as quickly as possible, especially considering the fact that anyone with any less of a heart could simply use her as a weapon without any regard for her as a person at all. Even if she doesn’t accept, I’m sending her straight home; she’s known more than enough to basically handle her Logrus powers safely for over two months now. I’ve just managed to quietly undo some of the psychological conditioning damage you two have inflicted on her, without her knowledge; I’m not about to allow her to accrue any more. Do I make myself clear?”  
  
“Infallibly clear, your Excellency.”  
  
Once again the delivery was just dead-on, but the accompanying expression read ‘no matter how big and important you may get, you will always be my little brother.’ And, of course, Merlin hated it, but what were siblings for?  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
The darkened tableau on display from the tip of the Needle was nearly black-and-white, stripped of all hue, although the effect was largely the work of the glass. Sarah reflected that if nothing else, the slowly rotating bands of color above them (barely distinguishable from here) should lend a little pigment, but, to be honest, she wasn’t certain that particular law of nature functioned here, either.  
  
It was really a moot point. At least a hundred floors down from where she stood, nearly at far as the naked eye could see, sprawled the great City of Chaos. _More like the dim barrio of Chaos_ , she thought: small, vague structures peopled by beings that would’ve seemed blurry in good light, it was all horribly indistinct. To further confuse matters, perspective kept playing wild games on her. Distance had no meaning – they could’ve been Matchbox-scale or gigantic, near or far; perceptible reality kept juggling as if it couldn’t make up its mind. Or wasn’t allowed to. The scene was starting to make her feel giddy and lightheaded; she moved on to a different side of the room. More of the same, but only to her right-hand side; beyond any vestige of civilization lay a black, rocky plain, flickering with luminescence, that stretched on forever. Upon closer inspection, the larger rocks were slowly drifting about aimlessly of their own volition, the mountains behind them sliding away to the left! _That’s what Mandor was trying for!_ Sarah suddenly thought; her journey here felt like it had happened in another lifetime; she had nearly forgotten.  
  
She knew what had to be on the other side of the room now that she had her bearings, but she almost didn’t have the nerve to look. Quickly chastising her own cowardice – it was now or never – Sarah forced herself to cross the small room, nearly tripping over a chair. _Sheesh it’s dark in here._ Carefully approaching the glass, she briefly wrestled with the idea of putting on the ring, then settled for a compromise, digging it back out of the trump pouch and just holding it. If she needed it, she’d have it. With the artifact firmly clasped in her left hand, Sarah took a deep breath and peered out.  
  
And nearly sank to her knees! Forcing herself to inhale, she slowly sat down where she stood, staring wide-eyed: the broad cobblestone street known as the Plaza at the End of the World led out to an immense cathedral complex made entirely of static red flame – the Cathedral of the Serpent – and the cathedral sat at the very edge of the Pit of Chaos! The bottomless, circular crater ran for miles and miles in all directions. Sarah swallowed her pride and shoved the ring on; it brought surprisingly little relief but she was loath to take it back off again. Out there, just beyond this barrier, was The End of everything, darkly pulsing and flowing, the borders crumbling away; in a few more epochs, the Cathedral would be consumed by the very thing it had been erected to honor. There were moving figures out there as well in the Plaza, no more distinct than those in the City – no, wait, a few of them were, but what they were precisely was difficult to gage from way up here. On this side of the dome of the sky there were stars, though, so many of them you could cry, dancing and shooting about the heavens in never-ending variation…  
  
Sarah started when the light suddenly came back on; she briefly shielded her eyes against the brightness.  
  
“That view is usually hard for outsiders to handle the first time,” she heard Merlin say, then saw him reach down his hand to her; she took it and he slowly brought her back to her feet. The fact that she was wearing the ring had not gone unnoticed. “If you would allow one minor adjustment?” he asked permission, gently taking her left hand. Sarah was still shaken enough that she quickly assented. Thrusting his consciousness into the spikard, Merlin raised his own ring and touched it to hers; seconds later she exhaled in relief and he let go of her. “There. Now you can view the great Abyss as we do when you wear that thing.” He pulled out a chair for her and she gratefully sat down, recovering herself. It didn’t feel like he’d zoned her out or even changed her mind; it just felt like he’d stuck the proverbial finger in her ear and zapped her with about a hundred years worth of experience with the Pit! True enough, it was physically dangerous to play around the edge, but beyond that it wasn’t really that imminent of a threat. At least not right now…  
  
“Thanks…I think,” she said as he took a chair beside her; she ventured a glance at the glassy wall across from them; it was opaque black once more. “How did it go?”  
  
“Oh, about as well as it was going to. I didn’t really get much resistance; I didn’t expect any. Of course, Mandor is all in favor of your moving up in the world, or at least that’s how he couches it,” he smiled jadedly. “I still hope you’re going to choose for your own sake, though. If you don’t want to do this I completely understand; you’ve been through a lot already - I can send you home today if you want – but if you want to stick around and help, the effort would definitely be appreciated. I think there’s a reason you’re here but I’m going to let this be your call. What do you want to do, Sarah?”  
  
Home! He hadn’t even mentioned that before…although the more she thought about it she quickly understood why; he had wanted to make sure she was really listening to what he had to say first. If the option had been granted to her when she initially arrived in Chaos, she would have taken it without a second thought. But she was in too deep now; it felt like chickening out to get this far and balk without ever knowing what it had all been for. And even though it probably wasn’t healthy, she had to admit that she was curious, too. And the king had just guaranteed her safety. _Shara can hold down the fort a while longer_ , she thought with a smirk; it hadn’t even been two months on Earth. She looked Merlin squarely in the eye.  
  
“Count me in.”  
  
He smiled broadly and extended his hand. “Welcome to the purple team,” he shook hers warmly. Colorful confetti suddenly rained down directly over her head, accompanied by the sound of noisemakers; Sarah glanced up in surprise and spotted a familiar glowing ball of light. “The sentiment is appreciated, Ghost, but you could’ve chosen a more tactful way to display it,” Merlin lightly reprimanded him, still smiling.  
  
“Sorry, Dad,” Ghost’s eerily similar voice responded as he floated down to join them.  
  
“Oh, you’re fine. As long as you’re here, could you run on down to the main Sawall holdings, check on which Ways don’t venture outside, and make a map of them for me?”  
  
“Sure thing, Dad – be right back!” He winked out.  
  
“Sorry about that,” Merlin brushed confetti off Sarah’s shoulders, “for as intelligent a being as he is, sometimes Ghost is still just a big kid.”  
  
Sarah laughed as she shook the rest out of her hair. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing. I think he’d be pretty scary if he didn’t have a sense of humor.”  
  
“You’re not the only one. Anyway, due to the extreme time-difference between the Courts and Amber, there’s going to be a short layover before I can send you; it won’t be mid-morning there until tomorrow. I intend to put you up at the Ways of Sawall for the night; you’d be too conspicuous here at Thelbane. That will give us adequate time to get you sufficiently prepared and to make sure everything necessary for the trip is in order. I’ll use the Ghostwheel to get you into the city and instruct him to discreetly follow you; in the unlikely event that you are in any serious physical danger he can trump you away instantaneously, but I’m hoping it won’t come to that – nothing obvious if it can possibly be avoided, this is a covert reconnaissance mission. If you get arrested for looking suspicious in the wrong place – it happens now and again with a few of our less-experienced agents – show the soldiers this ring and request to be brought before King Random,” he instructed, holding out a thin, sinuous black metal band with a polished cabochon of deep amethyst, which had literally just appeared in his hand.  
  
Sarah didn’t move.  
  
“I know, you’re getting a collection, but I promise there’s nothing on this one. Go ahead and check it out; I won’t be offended.”  
  
Sarah still hesitated. “…uh, my version of the Logrus barely shows up anything beyond a geologic survey.”  
  
Merlin just nodded. “Then use mine.” A perfect copy of the true Logrus suddenly flared between them and he held the ring up to it for her. Sarah’s eyes widened slightly upon seeing the thick, bright-blue field of raw power coursing and flowing about Merlin’s hand, but, true to his word, beyond the natural properties of the stone the ring was inert. He banished the Sign and held the thin band out for her again; this time she accepted it. “It just shows that I personally sent you and as such you have legal protection. Random will be pissed but he’ll let you leave the city in one piece. If you’re questioned, go ahead and answer the king but don’t volunteer more information than you have to.”  
  
“How can you be so sure they’d let me go if I’m caught? Wouldn’t it make more sense to keep political prisoners?”  
  
“Our mutual treaties forbid such action unless active violence is involved or – powers forbid – we are openly at war once again; the High King of Amber has a reputation to maintain. Besides, he’s one of my favorite uncles – killer drumming talent, I wish you could watch him perform just once.”  
  
Sarah just smiled, shaking her head. “Your Exalted Excellency, do you know what a soap opera is?”  
  
“Where did you think all that ludicrous material filters down from?” he laughed. “And you can drop the ‘Exalted’ bit; unless it’s a really painfully formal occasion, everyone else does, too. I’m a little young for it yet. In private I’d be fine with just Merlin, but I really shouldn’t let you get into the habit.”  
  
“…Merlin the Just?” Sarah ventured playfully.  
  
Merlin quietly chuckled; she was definitely a kid, but she was a good kid. “Just for that I’m going to insist on ‘your Exalted Excellency’. One last thing: I can have Ghost trump you straight over to Sawall when he returns, but depending on how you felt about it I was going to offer you the option of a fast aerial tour of the City on the way over, courtesy of Gryll – I am right in thinking you have met him?” – she nodded – “I know it doesn’t make up for all the time you’ve spent nominally confined by my elder brother, but it seemed a good start at making reparations– and you would have more freedom of movement at the Ways of Sawall during your brief stay there.”  
  
“Not to seem ungrateful, your Exalted Excellency, but you do remember that I’m human, right? I can’t breathe out there!”  
  
“You can’t breathe out there unaided,” he corrected her, forming a Logrus portal; in seconds he had an odd, small gray bundle in his hands. The portal closed. “The Barimen family attorney Bill Roth is a human my old man befriended on Shadow Earth and later hired. He’s never had need to come here yet but I have always been prepared for the contingency.” He unfolded the gray cloth: inside was a full-face gasmask of sorts. “This was specifically designed for our atmosphere, but the filter is only good for about fifteen minutes max before it has to be cleaned again – more than enough time for your purposes today but still not long enough for what I had initially had in mind. We’re still working on an easily replaceable cartridge, but the original prototype is definitely functional, should you care to try it.”  
  
Before Sarah could respond, she was interrupted by Ghost’s return.  
  
“Got it!” he announced cheerily as a medium-sized scroll dropped onto the table with a light bounce. Merlin stood up and unrolled it, examining it carefully. After about half-a-minute’s intense scrutiny he sighed, sounding frustrated. “Well, it isn’t as much of the complex as I’d hoped, but at least it’s more that three rooms, and unless I’m mistaken…yes! You do have access to the art gallery! Let me double-check here quick.”  
  
Sarah watched in wonder as a tiny part of the map rose off the paper and expanded in size, the detail growing with it, until it was about half the size of the original map below; Merlin turned the paper over and brought the image back down, superimposing it onto the back. Procuring a red marker from nowhere, he proceeded to cross out certain passageways here and there, but not many. He only hesitated once, but whatever it was he must’ve decided was fine for he did nothing then, quickly moving on. Soon, he gave the whole one final cursory glance-over and nodded in satisfaction.  
  
“Getting hopelessly lost in the art gallery at least once is practically a rite of passage growing up Sawall, but you have neither the time nor the constitution to handle all of the Ways. If you stick to the areas I’ve enclosed you should be fine. It can still be pretty easy to get turned around in there, though. If you get to the point that you can’t figure out where you are, just walk backwards until you reach the painted jabberwocky skeleton and hang a left – you should come right out into this hallway…here,” he flipped the map over and starred the spot. “And your quarters for the night would be here,” he circled a generous suite layout toward the top-left. Viewed in this manner, the Ways of Sawall resembled nothing so much as a series of burrows, even though one would probably never perceive it as such in real life. “You shouldn’t have any problems at all with room service; they’re accustomed to scrupulously following orders to the letter without asking any questions. Mandor personally sacked nearly half of Gramble’s old staff when he came into his dukedom because they didn’t meet the standard of living he demands,” the king rolled his eyes.  
  
“Speaking of Mandor, he’s okay with me being there?” Sarah tentatively asked.  
  
“He doesn’t have much of a choice if he wishes to retain the High King’s good graces,” Merlin wryly smiled. “Besides, he’ll be too busy organizing the dinner party I’ve ordered him to throw tonight to have the leisure to object to your presence, let alone pay you any attention today so long as you can stay out of his way. Your other chief complaint I believe had been social isolation; I think I understand why he thought it was necessary, but that doesn’t mean I agree with his methods. A different order of cloaking spell – one which confuses the wearer’s own energetic waves topically so that they cannot be deciphered by anyone else – should suffice for the remainder of your stay, and with your leave I would like to set it up at once. Such a device is relatively harmless and I can design it to naturally dissolve two days from now Chaos-reckoning, enough time to get you safely out of the country, as it were. Any requests for dinner? It’s really your going away party even if we can’t openly say so.”  
  
Sarah thought about it for a minute, noting that the king was taking advantage of this brief pause in the conversation to set up the basic framework for the energetic disguise spell; she almost didn’t have the nerve to interrupt him and wound up waiting until he actually stopped what he was doing to look at her. She could sense the incomplete, invisible components hovering above them, waiting for the few omitted key-words to complete the spell and drop it down about her.  
  
“Well?”  
  
“Are there any other women on your guest list? I haven’t so much as seen one in the better part of a year, let alone gotten to talk – no, wait, I guess that’s not entirely true,” she sighed, “but it’s not really the same. Maybe I’m just being unduly specist here.”  
  
Merlin nodded in understanding. “I assume you’ve heard the old Earth adage about ‘the female being deadlier than the male’ at least once or twice. The axiom certainly rings true in our own species, but I have a small favor I can call in – I haven’t seen Gilva in ages and she did promise to help me if I asked her nicely,” he momentarily closed his eyes, smiling at some private memory Sarah could only guess at. He opened them again, the expression definitely playful. “I have to warn you up front she isn’t exactly the girly-girl type, but I can trust her not to freely gossip and her code of honor in impeccable. As long as you’re pleasant and unwaveringly courteous you should find her rather interesting company.”  
  
There was something in his expression, his slight suppressed smile, that practically screamed that there were reams of information on this lady that he was deliberately withholding from Sarah. She nearly had misgivings about asking him in the first place, but his reaction seemed to her a good-natured almost joking secrecy, like he intended for whatever it was to be a surprise. She smirked.  
  
“Thank you, your Exalted Excellency,” she inclined her head slightly, perfectly nailing Mandor’s light mock-bow.  
  
“My pleasure, Sarah – no, really, this gives me a great excuse to talk to her myself. This stupid business of being king takes up way too much of my downtime as it is. Speaking of which, as much as I have enjoyed this time spent in getting to know you a little, it’s past time I returned to my regular duties; the Council is awaiting my presence downstairs. Now, I’ve postponed this decision for you as long as I possibly could, but it’s time now: how do you wish to be conveyed to the Ways of Sawall?”  
  
Sarah logically knew this interview had to end sometime – the king had been more than generous in granting her an extended interview like this – but she hated the thought of heading back out into that stark, harsh world all by herself. She hesitated, mulling something over.  
  
“Hang on a sec,” she said, quickly rising and going over to the near window behind them, casually extinguishing the lights as if she had been performing these small magics her entire life. Ghost still glowed in the reflection as she waited for her eyes to adjust.  
  
“What is she doing?” she heard his Merlin-like voice whisper.  
  
“Shh, get down here,” his real counterpart responded; the ball of light dropped and vanished – probably concealed in the king’s considerable robes-of-state.  
  
The alien grayscale tableau rematerialized for Sarah, with the gaping Abyss still adorning the end of the Plaza. But this time she could handle it; she was a little surprised to find the prospect of seeing it even closer-up exciting, like a thrill-ride. It might be a physically hostile environment but there was life out there. That settled it.  
  
Merlin squinted momentarily as the lights suddenly came back on; Sarah turned to face him with a huge grin on her face.  
  
“I wanna fly. Let’s do this.”  
  
“All right! Glad that adjustment helped,” the king beamed at her, “but first things first.”  
  
Making a few odd-looking gestures with his arms, he uttered four unconnected words in that old-dialect Thari she had only heard Suhuy use occasionally, but hard as she tried she couldn’t seem to make sense of them this time even though she knew they sounded familiar.  
  
“Finished,” he announced, folding the map back up small enough to fit into her trump case and handing it over to her. “Feel anything different?”  
  
“…no.”  
  
“Good, that means it’s sitting where it’s supposed to and not invading your inner energy fields any. I’ll send for Gryll presently but you need to be wearing something far more utilitarian for this. Here,” he handed her a folded long-sleeve blouse, footed leggings and snug-looking ankle boots – all pulled out of nowhere in an instant; the extreme level of the king’s personal power was positively sobering. “Mandor gave me your measurements just in case; these should fit.”  
  
Sarah fingered the sleeve of the fine silk blouse, curiously eying the distinct shade of dark blue; the rest was black. “I thought you said I was on the Purple Team now.”  
  
“Even as the king I’m not about to unnecessarily ruffle feathers over a single day-and-a-half; it’s all in the family,” he noted wryly. “You can change behind there,” he gestured to a black lacquered partition that hadn’t been there two seconds ago. “I’ll have your dress sent on ahead of you – you’ll still need to wear it for tonight.”  
  
Sarah hurried with her bundle behind the provided privacy screen and commenced fishing for the zipper on the back of her evening gown. She could hear Merlin speaking to someone she couldn’t hear responding – obviously a trump call – but soon enough she heard the unmistakable, gravelly odd voice of the old demon the king had known personally since early childhood. It had taken Sarah a very long time to drop her trepidation about this, but having known Sofi for what she actually was had helped immensely. They had become a species like any other to her. Soon enough she was finished changing and was braiding her long hair back as she stepped out into the open again.  
  
“Little Earth-shadow, we meet again!” Gryll hailed her in Thari, his bright eyes well-noting her change in livery. “Ready to leave the ground, I hear?”  
  
“Not quite,” Merlin intervened – slipping back into his native tongue – motioning for Sarah to join them. The king fitted the gasmask over her face personally, making absolutely certain that the straps were perfectly snug, that there were no possible gaps that unfiltered air could enter from around the edges. “Are you all right in there? Is it uncomfortable at all?”  
  
“Nope – fine,” Sarah’s slightly muffled voice sounded from inside as she gave the okay signal.  
  
“Begging your Excellency’s indulgence,” Gryll grimaced (it was really the best he could smile), “while the burden you have assigned me will be comfortably light, unless I increase my bulk this will not be an easy ride for her. If I may,” he gestured to one of the stuffed chairs at the round table.  
  
“Of course,” Merlin conceded at once, “take what you need.”  
  
Sarah watched in dumb amazement as the demon literally engulfed the chair – it just absorbed straight into his body! – and grew in height and girth until he was nearly six feet tall!  
  
“Now there is sufficient mass for you to grip and sit astride,” Gryll commented to Sarah, kneeling. “Climb up onto my back and secure your arms about my shoulders,” he instructed, and she did so, feeling the rough scales beneath her thin leggings, the palms of her hands. His proportionally huge bat-like wings had a very slight waxiness to them (it might’ve been a kind of ‘sweat’; these creatures exuded a handful of substances that helped to protect their bodies from their harsh natural environment.) “Ah! You wear a disguise to go out into the world,” he remarked as she mounted, “it is invisible to my eyes but I sense it at this closeness.”  
  
“That would be my doing,” Merlin commented, “and you’re not to breathe a word of this flight to anyone, not even my to uncle, do you understand?”  
  
“Of course, Merlin – oh, forgive me – your Excellency! Your new title still sounds strange to these old ears after all those years of casual addresses.”  
  
“It’s alright,” Merlin shrugged it off with a fond smile. “Just do one long loop of the Cathedral and the City, then take the filmy into Sawall proper here,” he reproduced one section of Sarah’s map as a holograph between them in midair; the demon nodded and the map vanished. “Now, I know you normally enjoy doing this but no dive-bombing the Pit of the Abyss this time.”  
  
“But your Excellency!” Gryll protested, “the updrafts! They’re simply perfect for-”  
  
The king just frowned, a hand on his hip, narrowing his eyes.  
  
Gryll sighed, crestfallen. “Yes, your Excellency.”  
  
“Hey, if it’s any consolation, the girl just about passed out seeing that thing for the first time a few minutes ago,” Merlin quipped good-naturedly, “just don’t scare her beyond my extrapersonal coping abilities; she wouldn’t be doing this at all without a little direct assist from yours truly.”  
  
“Oh, very well,” Gryll gave a quick glance over his shoulder at the young humanoid who would in all likelihood be clinging to him for dear life as it was. “How do you wish for me to embark?”  
  
“Just use the emergency exit right above us,” Merlin looked up into the spire. Gryll commenced flapping his large, leathery wings and Sarah inhaled as they lifted off the floor, headed toward the dark, glass ceiling. “Have fun, Sarah! I’ll see you again tonight!” the king called up to her just before they reached the apex of the Needle…  
  
And suddenly they were free! Free as the cool wind rushing past, rippling through her blouse and her hair, free as the proverbial bat out of hell they sped up higher then cruised at altitude, the alien landscape and remnants of civilization splayed out far below them. From this perspective, it almost reminded Sarah of a deep-sea thermal vent on Earth: far beyond anything imaginably inhabitable, there was suddenly bizarre, profuse life there at the very end of existence. The sleek Thelbane glinted darkly in the Technicolor light that phased in and out of precisely half the anti-Copernican dome of the heavens, the bright chromatic bands close enough together here that one could see them all at once, churning and sifting like sand in a bottle near the ‘pole’. The other half of the sky was a wildly alive night; the stars were not only dancing up here but shooting right past them occasionally like tiny comets no larger than beach balls, leaving dazzling trails of stardust in their wake! Were they truly that high up? It was remarkably difficult to visibly gauge physical distance in true Chaos. There was still a lot of black down there but this world was anything but dark; the barren, rocky plain she had spied from the tip of the Needle was pulsing with a fluorescent, phosphorescent glow in a myriad of colors as it and the Shifting Mountains continued their lazy drifting patterns.  
  
They were flapping steadily toward the Cathedral of the Serpent, and Gryll flew loop-de-loop about those spires of perfectly frozen flame, making his passenger laugh and holler. As he skirted the Abyss, Sarah could finally see the interior of the Cathedral: the half that faced the Pit was completely open to the world, with immense amphitheater-style seating inside, the altar and pulpit at the very edge, illuminated by its own gold-and-red light. On the far side of the Pit, running as far as the eye could see, was the legendary Field Beyond Good and Evil, although it was really only remarkable due to the interred remains of the late king of Amber, Oberon Barimen; even from way up here, his showy gold-inlaid catafalque could clearly be seen with the naked eye. He had refused interment in the Abyss, as was customary in Chaos, and his by right being the son of Chaos lord; in an oddly urbane way, the usual practice wasn’t unlike burial-at-sea.  
  
Gryll had been edging out just a little over the Pit now and Sarah took a gulp, finally daring a real first glance downward, automatically tightening her grip on him as she did so. If the sight of the Rim had been hard to handle without magical intervention, the view full-on with it was still almost overwhelming. Down there, down, down, down forever, swirling and writhing in every shade of black were destruction and creation, the ultimate death and the components of the first primordial forms of life, all churning together in a violently turbulent whirlpool of unimaginable raw power in perfect silence. Her own power came from that awe-inspiring, terrifying locality, manifested by the Logrus. It was the most sobering moment of Sarah’s young life.  
  
“Look over there!” Gryll suddenly shouted back at her, pointing to one of the parts of the edge of the Pit across from them. It took Sarah a moment or two to be able to focus against the swirling shades, but soon she could just barely make out…demon-formed Chaosians in mountain climbing gear?!  
  
“What the…”  
  
“Pit Divers,” Gryll announced with a distinct note of disgust, clucking his literally forkéd tongue – it nearly made a sound rather like someone snapping with both fingers simultaneously – “trying to dig treasures out of the Serpent’s Jaws. Some people simply have no respect,” he shook his head. Then gave a peculiar, sharp laugh. “Hang on tight!”  
  
And started to glide faster, right across that black, gaping void!  
  
Sarah gasped, wide-eyed. “Merlin forbade this!”  
  
“The High King forbade only dropping suddenly with you onboard,” the old demon replied slyly, gaining speed in a controlled descent until they were well within the top section of the Abyss itself. Coming up to the cliff-edge, Gryll suddenly shot straight up alongside, goosing the divers from behind with an ear-splitting screech that made Sarah’s own ears ring! In seconds they were past the lot of them, heading aloft once more, beyond the divers shaking fists and imaginative epithets. Higher and higher and higher they sped; Gryll’s wings were audibly buzzing, beating as fast as a hummingbird’s.  
  
“Reach upward with one hand as far as you can,” he yelled back with a quick glance behind at her; his fanged, pained-looking grimace said it all.  
  
With extreme care, Sarah dared to let go of him with her right hand, stretching her arm up straight. It was notable that the outside temperature here never varied in the least regardless of where they were – not quite temperate, always a little on the cool side; only the stars were genuinely warm. But they were on the ‘day’ side of the heavens, on a seeming collision course with the sky itself! Sarah briefly wondered if it was possible to crash through to the other side, then quickly forced the thought out of her mind; it was simply too easy to manipulate shadow like that out here!  
  
Gryll eased up on a dime and commenced soaring straight again – but Sarah’s hand was in the color! It felt like some substance between mist, light, and… gelatin, maybe? It was only slightly warmer than the air about them. Even at this she failed to realize what he was really doing until they reached the next band… and the green stuff trailed into the red! Sarah gasped at the effect, then laughed, waving her hand back-and-forth, making the human equivalent of a jet-trail! She was suddenly reminded of photographs she had seen of the planet Jupiter, with all that flowing gas, those visible fluctuations. Perhaps those storms were caused by nothing more than some alien creatures out for a lark.  
  
Soon enough Gryll was descending again, soaring low over what Sarah had dubbed the Barrio of Chaos, following the aforementioned filmy – a ribbon-thin band of gray that reeled one into a desired destination (the small, daily-use version of the infamous Black Road), but she was hardly paying attention to the dark undercity and the rough commerce stemming from the aptly named Black Zone; that streak she had made in the very sky was still visible, albeit starting to break up where it had started. She was beginning to feel a bit lightheaded by the time she suddenly found herself indoors once again; they had rather abruptly come through the wall just above a fireplace into a large open hallway with very few features, save a rather nice black marble floor with a long runner of plush deep-blue carpeting, a magnificent staircase leading up to seemingly nowhere (same carpeting, dark wood banister), and a peculiar mirrored alcove at the far end of the room with a watermelon-tourmaline pillar in the center of it. The flames behind the grate were regular-colored but they were braiding about themselves like thick ribbons.  
  
Gryll circled once to slow his speed and finally touched down on the carpet in the center of the room, crouching so that Sarah could more easily disembark. She felt a bit woozy as she did so, but didn’t even realize why until Gryll immediately leapt to his feet and commenced tackling the straps on the gasmask, gingerly picking them loose with his long, sharp claws. Sarah reached back to help him; once the last one was released, she wrenched the mask off of her face and gasped a full, clean breath of air! Panting in relief, she turned the mask over in her hands and immediately spotted the problem: the outside filter was now completely caked over in a very thin, bright yellow mud-like film, still moist from her own respiration!  
  
“Do not touch it,” Gryll cautioned as he stretched his wings, noting her interest, “the substances would burn even your skin at that concentration. Are you otherwise feeling fine? You seem to have made the journey in one piece.”  
  
Sarah honestly couldn’t tell whether or not he had been joking just then. She also belatedly noticed that he had already shrunk to just her height. Technically these creatures were carnivorous, but really they could absorb just about anything and eventually break it down for fuel, if not nutrition.  
  
“Better now. Thanks for the lift in.”  
  
“It was amusing, Sarah. Perhaps our dark roads shall cross again.”  
  
And with that he spread his great gray wings and zipped straight through the ceiling!  
  
The all-too-familiar quiet stillness of the hallway settled over her: she was completely alone again in a strange, huge building. But for how long? It felt odd after all those tedious months of relative social isolation that just the thought of accidentally running into anyone at all made her uncomfortably nervous. Writing it off as rather justifiable paranoia at this point, she quickly dug Merlin’s map out of her trump pouch and sat down right where she was on the carpet to examine it. She had known that Mandor had relatively shielded her from this aspect of life in the Courts during her stay at Mandorways, even making false doors for her ease of use while she learned about the tentative nature of the patched-together Ways. The genuine article was in here, however, and dealing with it on her own for the first time was a bit daunting. Every single room in this complex had multiple Ways leading in and out of it and most of them jogged outside briefly in nearby shadows, sometimes two or three times, before one reached one’s destination. And not all of them were in the walls, either; some were hidden in the floors and ceilings and a handful were perfectly invisible right in the middle of a room. She was going to have to be exceedingly cautious of how she moved about in here until she could get her bearings (which was probably going to be never; she simply wasn’t going to be here long enough to truly get comfortable with the system.) Upon closer inspection, Sarah realized that the blueprints were positively riddled with instructional notes – thankfully in a legible hand – but some of the directional symbols more resembled a play diagram for American football than a floor plan. For the great hall alone (she figured that’s where she was):  
  
‘Sink through floor here to reach fifth level up, front corridor.’  
  
‘Do not take the stairs – they lead to Lady Dara Sawall’s private wing and an active volcano.’  
  
‘Take the wall right of the fireplace to access inner dining hall, but walk backwards to reach it, never forward (shortcut.)’  
  
‘Four turns clockwise about the pillar will lead to the second level hallway living quarters.’  
  
_Guess I’d better figure out how to get to my room first_ , she thought, stiffly stretching her legs as she got up. That had been quite a haul in getting here, to say nothing of her extreme physical exertion this morning. Granted, she wasn’t feeling as beat up as she probably should’ve all-considered, but she was plenty fatigued as it was. Careful to stay on the carpeted walkway, she made her way over to the mirrored alcove and stepped inside. Counting off, she promenaded about the pillar the proscribed number of times clockwise – it was like being in the middle of a kaleidoscope – until she reached the desired hallway. Double-checking the map (this was nuts), she practically hugged the stone castle wall to her right to avoid getting sucked into a different Way along the other side, then turned sharply straight through the wall right before the tapestry –  
  
And into the rooms she would be occupying for the night. Okay, so it wasn’t really as bad to navigate as it seemed, it would mostly just take getting used to. Obviously the Ways of Sawall had not all been built and/or patched together at once due to the extreme differences in the décor, and, indeed, styles of construction: the entrance was opulent, palatial, near-modern; this wing could’ve been a part of somebody’s castle from Shadow Earth’s middle ages Europe. The room she had been assigned was round and spacious; it might’ve been a tower but there was no real way of knowing. There were no windows, but colorful, thick tapestries depicting various outdoor scenes – the Chaosian outdoors, that is – festooned the otherwise dull walls. A large, ornately carved stone fireplace provided not only heat but also light, although there were real taper candelabras here and there – this was definitely the old section, then. The bed was king-size, though, and there was a small worktable on one side, nearer the light, and a standing wardrobe on the other; she put the gasmask down on the table, careful not to let the side with the yellow goo touch the polished hardwood. The wardrobe proved to be almost entirely empty; her evening gown was hung up nicely in the center rack, however, with a pair of rather delicate-looking shoes that matched just off to the side. Along with her travel clutch.  
  
“Mandor,” she quietly sighed, feeling the smooth leather. He was clearly determined to be a gentleman to the end, even if she wasn’t sure of the precise ends he was trying for anymore. Thinking back to some of the things he’d said right before their duel, the idea that he had been actively trying to hurt her oddly didn’t wash. The man was capable of wielding Primal Chaos as a weapon – what in Chaos would he need her for? And it would have been Lord Suhuy who had taught him that. Looking at it now in hindsight, while the fact that someone with the proper training could destroy her like that was still terrifying, it wasn’t logical at all that the terror had latched onto those two, Mandor in particular. It really was weird. Sure, he was still a big control freak, but had he ever actively tried to harm her? Suhuy had obviously been in the process of psychologically conditioning her to work for Chaos, but Mandor turned up practically nil on that count. Why had she done all that? It made no sense. That alone was more than slightly worrying. She was about to shut the wardrobe door when she felt a single, distinct tug. Toward the clutch. She knew that feeling for what it was by now, but this time it wasn’t a hard compulsion, just a little push.  
  
_‘Open me.’ All right_ , Sarah thought a bit guardedly, summoning up her version of the Logrus on the odd chance that she would have to quickly interpose it between herself and whatever was planted in that small leather purse, but upon looking inside she dismissed Her; it was only a note, which read:  
  
Sarah, by now you should have been briefed by His Exalted Excellency as well as instructed on how to conduct yourself about here. Should you require anything at all, merely pull on the silk cord hanging by the bed. I am aware that the prospect of interacting with other people will be exciting for you, but you must refrain from introducing yourself to anyone, including your linguistics tutor, who is scheduled to give you lessons at one-thirty (one quarter turning retrograde) this afternoon – be in your rooms then. Supper will be served in the indoor dining hall at seven sharp linear; be dressed for the occasion and on your very best behavior. The High King expressly intimated that it is only a semi-formal event in spite of his august presence there, however, so you needn’t worry about disguising your physical appearance; all the other guests are to be human-formed as well. I shall see you then.  
  
~ Mandor  
  
  
It wasn’t the warmest of correspondences but neither was it terribly cold and formal (for him). It was about as could be expected, she guessed, from someone she had just emancipated herself from. At least he didn’t sound angry or hurt – that was something. She folded the note back up and replaced it in the clutch, shutting the wardrobe door. What time was it now? It took Sarah several moments to spot the room’s Chaos clock: it was an old-fashioned dark wood affair with about a dozen different time keeping pulleys and mechanisms that just blended in perfectly between the two zhind-hunting scenes along the far portion of the wall.  
  
Not even 10:00?! She groaned in exhaustion. The bed looked awfully inviting and she decided to take advantage of the fact that it was still so early. Kicking off her small boots, she was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. Sweet oblivion…  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Dreams in this place were as strangely fragmented and drifting as the land itself; Sarah could only reproduce bits and pieces later upon waking: floating between nowheres in a Technicolor sky on a gray, gauzy walkway that fluttered in a breeze she couldn’t feel; fantastical monsters that made a sensual dance of devouring each other in a macabre circle-of-life; flying along on the back of an enormous metallic angel as the sky spliced apart again and again in their wake, each time revealing a new world; a kaleidoscopic hallway constructed entirely of mirrors on all sides, including the ceiling and the floor, presenting many images of herself, but all looked slightly different from in her a myriad of ways - at the very end, standing behind the far glass, had been the full length image of a man attired in a black and silver historical-looking military costume. He had shouted something at her, but it only came across as gibberish that didn’t even sync up with his lips, like a badly dubbed foreign language movie. She had stopped having true nightmares ages ago and was used to the bizarre cabaret that her brain concocted for her nightly now, but upon waking that last vision made her think hard; it had seemed… different from the others. Was it of someone she was supposed to know? Or would know shortly? It wasn’t unheard of to have prophetic or spiritually communicative dreams in Chaos, but she had had yet to have one personally as far as she knew. Mentally stashing away the face for later (dark hair, pale skin, indeterminate age but probably older, handsome but coldly hardened, a jaded expression in his green eyes, far greener than any she had ever seen) she got up and availed herself of the amenities in the hidden bathroom, which was thankfully modern if a bit antique. The clawed feet on the tub looked real – taxidermied – as if they had actually belonged to some creature at one point in time, but she tried not to think about it; the soak felt too good on her sore muscles.  
  
Ordering lunch proved a bit more awkward, between the way that the serving woman kept trying to feel out Sarah’s possible title (instinctively sensing her to be the alien invader that she was) and the fact that Sarah had to keep pretending not to notice the large, retractable stinger imbedded in the roof of the woman’s mouth (it was unnervingly visible every time she spoke!) But at least the service was fast and efficient – she returned with Sarah’s order not five minutes later – and the food was Mandor’s level of superb. Given the fact that this was a high aristocracy segment of the populace, he had to have had an eccentric reputation for not letting anyone else near the kitchen. If there even was one.  
  
Lunch was quickly followed by the afore-promised linguistics tutor: a severe, dour-faced, stern, middle-aged taskmaster with decidedly blue-gray skin, uniformed in plain Sawall livery. He made Lord Suhuy Swayvil look positively indulgent and easy-going by comparison. The session was extremely intensive and lasted a grueling four linear hours with no appreciable breaks beyond physical necessity. Granted, the man seemed to know his work inside and out, but he displayed so little personality that Sarah seriously wondered whether he could stand his own company; even his vocal inflections (while technically accurate) sounded mechanical, fake. By the end of the ordeal, Sarah nearly cheered at the sight of his back as he disappeared at last through the outer wall of the chamber, his arms loaded up with his textbooks and her exercise sheets; even though it was only to be the one lesson, he had insisted on grading her to empirically demonstrate to his superior that she had attained sufficient progress – he could’ve been referring to any of them, really, but she was only too happy just seeing him leave to ask.  
  
_An hour-and-a-half before dinner…well, give or take a little_ , she thought, turning around and checking the clock as she flexed her overworked fingers and wrist. Time didn’t seem to pass as cleanly here as it did at Mandorways, either; the very hands of the clock seemed to suddenly advance and retreat in small increments for no discernable reason other than petty annoyance. It was still sufficient time to do a little more exploring, though. But she didn’t want to risk accidentally running late, either…  
  
Sarah quickly decided on dressing for dinner before heading out again. Adjusting the position of her makeshift trump hollister down (it had to be slung lower to be accessible through the hollow pocket of her skirt), she donned the lavish evening gown once again and fixed her hair nicely before going out the…wall (it wasn’t really a door.)  
  
Merlin was right in that there weren’t very many places that she could physically go, but what was probably the best destination in the compound was on her list – about half of it, anyway. The Maze of Art in the Ways of Sawall was a legendary collection even by these people’s standards, a museum-sized display that boasted impressive pieces from every conceivable era, and included works both by well-known Chaosian artists as well as works culled from some of the best artists of the Black Zone in several different sets of shadows, and beyond. It was practically expected for any visitor to the Sawall holdings to attempt to navigate the maze at least once; guides could be had for a nominal fee, but only those unafraid of being labeled green novices ever availed themselves of the service. Often enough, visitors from other houses came calling for this purpose alone – hardly any had ever been turned away. As with much of the estate, many of the ways cobbled into the Maze were off-limits to Sarah (which was a shame; many of the shadows traversed in the gallery had been specifically chosen for artistic merit as well.) Still, fairly large portions were open to her yet according to the back of her map; it was just a matter of getting there…  
  
Taking precisely fourteen long strides further down the large, high-ceilinged castle hallway, Sarah suddenly veered through the left wall, swallowing her trepidation as she descended a rounded floating staircase without walls (the place was pitch-black with the exception of the generously-sized blue-glowing stairs that rather resembled a certain type of tree fungus), abruptly coming out into a sitting room not unlike Mandor’s library in décor, only smaller and without the shelving. There was a certain spot in the carpet if only she could…yes! Feeling the tension that signaled the presence of a transport area, she stepped cleanly into it and was instantly whisked away to the late Gramble Sawall’s favorite installment in the art gallery: the Sculpture Garden.  
  
It was technically impossible to gauge the size of the hall with any accuracy due to the fact that time-space itself had been elaborately folded in its making and the place shifted regularly of its own volition to vary the displayed set of sculptures that a viewer saw on any given day. Considering its age, the content as well as the concept seemed surprisingly modernist to Sarah. The Garden was dark, with only strategically-placed floor lighting to illumine the installation pieces to their best advantage. It was far from stuffy in here; a light, clean breeze was coming through from somewhere. Chimes tinkled faintly from further in. The floor appeared to be an integral part of the exhibit: there were no perfectly straight sections – it curved and undulated, there were even stairs in certain areas. Most of the art leaned toward the abstract - organic shapes, mechanical, strangely compelling combinations of both – the kinds of images that only made sense to the subconscious mind. Even the recognizable sculptures were simply breathtaking, like a gigantic house of playing cards constructed almost entirely of clear glass; most of the pieces were immense, making the viewer feel miniature by comparison. A felled tree looked almost lifelike in detail save that it had been painstakingly cast and hammered out of solid silver. After wandering a while, Sarah suddenly registered that she was now walking on what should have been the left wall! Only it had become the floor a turn back… She couldn’t help but think of the Staircase Chamber in the heart of Jareth’s castle, how he had been able to walk on all surfaces in there. If she had only had the faith, would she have been able to do it, too? Toby had. Never in her life would she forget the sight of her baby brother staring down at her from where he had been sitting upright-but-upsidedown on the ceiling!  
  
While a white crescent-carved bench with stylized flowers along the sides looked inviting – it was positioned so a viewer could enjoy a very intricate perpetual motion machine that appeared to be directly affected by no less than four separate sources of gravity – Sarah knew she didn’t have much time here and really wanted to see as much of the gallery as she could, and so she took a series of curves that brought her right-side-up back out into the art maze proper. Briefly shielding her eyes from the sudden brightness of a more normal level of illumination, she saw that she was in a long hallway that was just covered in elaborate floor-to-ceiling tapestries and fabric arts in a wide aesthetic variety, the styles running the gamut from historical primitive to true-to-life portraiture to deconstructed modern works in every fibre not under the sun; all were mixed together. Carefully sensing along the right wall, she came to a way that lead into a relatively small (albeit high-ceilinged) room devoted to a single item: a real jabberwocky skeleton that had been splatter-painted garishly in orange, blue, and yellow. It was the infamous room Merlin had mentioned that contained a shortcut out should she need it; at least she knew how to find it now. Checking her bearings against the map, she headed through a different wall into another wing of the gallery, a hall with an assortment of small sculptures and paintings. It seemed a safe assumption to make of Chaosian taste that while beauty was in the eye of the beholder (and the delicate variety was definitely appreciated), many things that she herself would consider ugly or grotesque were prized as more daringly beautiful.  
  
For as impressively awe-inspiring as this place and its collections were, she still couldn’t help feeling a little bit depressed from the total lack of any natural light in any of the areas in which she was permitted. It was like living underground. And even when there was light, time – in particular time-of-day - felt entirely arbitrary, which was as physically bewildering as it was freeing. The illusion of the passage of time had been downright fake at Mandorways so she wouldn’t feel completely overwhelmed by the phenomena; this was far more alien than any arctic summer or winter on Shadow Earth. It was neither at once.  
  
“Where there’s hardly no day and hardly no night,” she sang in English on a whim, looking at a surrealist rendering of a hellride on canvas. It was so bizarre but ‘Mary Poppins’ just felt terribly apropos here, right down to the casual world-jumping.  
  
To Sarah’s complete surprise, she actually heard what sounded like a faint male voice singing in response from further down the corridor past the bend -  
  
“From the Needle of Chaos, oh what a sight…”  
  
\- in English! She stopped cold. Was someone else in the gallery? It was possible if not probable, but according to Mandor almost no one in these parts knew any conversational English at all, let alone tunes from an American Disney film! The words had been altered but the melody was correct. She waited a moment.  
  
Silence.  
  
“Hello?” she called aloud in English, her voice echoing down the chamber. Silence again.  
  
Then she heard the whistling – it was coming from the left corridor – then it stopped: whoever it was had just done the first four bars of ‘Chim-Cheree’! Quickly turning the corner and continuing down the hall where it had seemed to emanate from, she followed up with the next four bars herself, then waited. The voice answered immediately, continuing the song, and this time she rapidly paced towards the source, which appeared to be getting closer from the slight increase in volume. She was about to enter a grove of trees hammered out of various metals when her mind was suddenly flooded with the image of Merlin; he was trumping her.  
  
“There you are!” he exclaimed, looking relieved, “I was starting to get worried you were going to be late for dinner. Where did you get off to?”  
  
“The art gallery,” Sarah answered a bit embarrassedly; she had been so thoroughly engrossed that she had completely lost track of the time!  
  
Merlin merely looked up for a moment with a good-natured half-smile. “All right, come on,” he held out his hand for her; she took it with regret and allowed herself to be pulled through into an elegantly furnished dining room. There was background lighting coming from somewhere – everywhere, it seemed – but it was soft, accented by the immense blown-glass chandelier floating above the table; the piece was a work of art to rival any in the Sculpture Garden, with a variety of differently-shaped hands all holding the candles. There were about three-dozen other people in the room besides them, all dressed impeccably formal but, to Sarah’s profound relief, all of them looked human enough that she wouldn’t be fighting the impulse to either stare or completely avoid eye-contact all evening. “I made Lord Mandor hand over his trump of you,” Merlin added very quietly as he pocketed it; her sudden appearance, and by the High King’s own hand no less, had attracted more than a few marking glances. “In exchange, he requested your own trump of his library at Mandorways be returned to him. He assured me it’s nothing personal, just a basic security measure since you’re going away, and frankly I’m inclined to believe him; he’s never even given out a single key to any of his mistresses. You can just give the trump to me; I’ll make sure he gets it before I leave here tonight.”  
  
“Oh…right. Of course,” she replied, feeling just a little blindsided as she got out her trump pouch and extracted the card of a place that had been for all intents and purposes her home for over half-a-year. It was oddly a little bittersweet to lose it. “Did either he or Su – Lord Suhuy, want any of the others back?” she corrected herself. No casual addresses in here.  
  
“Nope, just that one. But as long as we’re shuffling the decks, here, take one of mine; you may need it before this business is over,” he smoothly passed her a trump facedown; she accepted it with a curtsey.  
  
“Thank you, your Excellency.” The omitted ‘Exalted’ garnered a look. “I thought I was supposed to be discreet and not draw undue attention to myself,” she answered it slyly.  
  
“Oh, go on, mingle already,” he playfully shooed her off, “just remember you’re an international woman-of-mystery here.”  
  
“Got it,” she gave a small smile with another curtsey and, taking her leave of the king, turned away to examine the room; as tempting as it was to try to strike up a conversation with some of these people, she knew it would be almost too difficult to carry on without knowing what was safe for her to even talk about, let alone not giving her name, and she quickly decided against it, walking over to the far wall to examine the large painting there instead, which she assumed was a family portrait (assumed, for the figures were all demon-formed.) She picked out Mandor’s octopal ape immediately, standing behind and to the left of an old, gnarled creature seated on a deep-blue backed chaise-lounge, holding a goat-headed lady’s thin, scaly fingers; Mandor’s two gorilla-like right hands were resting on the back behind old Gramble Sawall. Something that could’ve been a young Merlin knelt by the other side - down front but distinctly apart from the others – while two little imps squatted cheekily on the floor at their mother’s feet, one looking far more annoyed than the other at having to sit still for so long, its tiny arms crossed as it glared accusingly at the artist. _That one has to be Jurt_ , she thought, _so the other must be Despil_. Behind the chaise on the other side was a human-formed figure of a woman; she was standing in near-profile with one delicate ivory hand on the back of the lounge, but she faced completely away from the viewer, revealing only a cascade of thick, wavy blonde hair. Mandor’s mother? Probably. None of the adults were smiling, but Merlin had snuck in just a whisper of one. The tableau was terribly formal and imposing, as it had obviously been painted to be.  
  
Sarah suddenly felt a light hand on her shoulder and automatically glanced back – it was Mandor!  
  
“Studying our family portrait for incriminating clues?”  
  
The statement could have been harsh or accusatory, but from his tone of voice she could tell it was only a tease. Sarah was speechless for a second but quickly recovered herself.  
  
“It’s a very good likeness. When was it done?” she turned back to look again. It almost made her feel strangely guilty, the degree to which she still felt perfectly at ease in his company even now.  
  
“A little over twenty-five cycles ago, Chaos-reckoning. The artist would be pleased that his work is still occasionally appreciated,” he offered graciously, along with his arm, escorting her to the table. “This spot shall be yours this evening,” he pulled out one of the high-backed cushioned chairs for her, pushing it in as she sat down; he’d placed her at about mid-table on the right-hand side – not bad at all, considering who all seemed to be present. She had been on the verge of thanking him when his attention abruptly shifted.  
  
“Lady Hendrake, so glad you could make time for our little frivolities,” he bowed elegantly over the hand of a rather tall woman – she was nearly his height – with strong sensual features, dark-brown eyes, and fiery auburn hair that was pulled back tight in a low twist-bun.  
  
“It is hardly every day that His Excellency invites one to a private dinner, and with such a distinguished host, no less,” the woman responded in a distinct alto register with a slight smile as Mandor straightened and pulled out the chair to Sarah’s right, “although I must confess I feel more than a little underdressed for the occasion.” Coming from a human, the observation would have sounded utterly ludicrous: she was wearing a gorgeous black-and-white sleeveless gown that showed her well-toned muscles to their advantage.  
  
“When one gets a halfling for a king, one must be prepared to accommodate the other half occasionally,” Mandor quietly joked with a light lip-smile as the lady deposited herself in the chair.  
  
_Hendrake! Gilva Hendrake?!_ Sarah thought with almost shock during this small exchange. The family was definitely important enough to have at least nominal representation at any formal event, but Hendrake was also the most famous (or infamous) of the ‘war houses’ of Chaos; the women trained right alongside the men, no exceptions! It was small wonder Merlin had been so smilingly tight-lipped about her; he had just deliberately seated Sarah next to a highly-cultured Amazon! The woman had likely fought at Patternfall!  
  
“But Lord Mandor, who is this charming young lady you have me seated next to?” she asked with a rather knowing smile, glancing at Sarah. Merlin had to have told her beforehand; she was simply going through the motions to be courteous.  
  
“Lady Gilva Hendrake,” Mandor uttered barely above a whisper, leaning in between them, “may I present to you my ward, Sarah,” his neutral expression leaning toward one of warning; Gilva caught it and simply nodded once, as if to say, ‘don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.’  
  
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sarah,” she said just as quietly in her lower register, reaching across under the table and giving Sarah’s right hand a light, conspiratory squeeze with a tentative smile. “Lady Dara could not join us this evening?” she addressed Mandor again. “I am surprised that she would want to miss an event like this.”  
  
“Lady Dara is currently indisposed elsewhere, but I will send along your salutations and good wishes.” He shot Sarah a fast, pointed look before moving on to greet his other guests. Whatever had been done to ensure that his conniving stepmother was currently out-of-the-way was directly his own doing. Sarah hoped that he had just found some interesting phenomenon or somesuch in a distant shadow to keep her preoccupied and that the woman wasn’t experiencing the magical equivalent of being tied up, gagged, and locked in the closet. She wasn't about to ask, either, but in any event this would mesh pretty cleanly with Merlin’s impressions of the man: Mandor was willing to go to great lengths to protect and promote the interests of those he was interested in.  
  
Gilva leaned in closer, watching him go. “So, that suave, silver fox was your mentor in the ways of Chaos, eh?”  
  
Sarah nodded, still feeling just a little overwhelmed. Gilva let go of her, straightening back up.  
  
“We’ll just have to see how your table manner measures up,” she warmly teased her, taking a sip from a wine glass that had literally just appeared at her place-setting. While Sarah still had her reservations, she had to admit the lady seemed good-hearted enough, albeit a little on the intimidating side. The fact that Merlin was willing to personally vouch for her was something, though. A frosty glass of water appeared at Sarah’s own place-setting – almost like a cue – and she took a drink herself.  
  
Only seconds later, the chair to her left slid out and down plopped a rather dashing-looking young man who could’ve been in his twenties. He had neatly tousled black-blue hair and sea-green eyes, and was wearing a close-cut suit that was mostly black but with deep-blue accents. He looked terribly familiar to Sarah but she couldn’t place him fast enough. It didn’t really matter; he addressed Gilva first. Of course.  
  
“Lady Gilva, it’s nice to see you as always,” he bowed slightly from where he was. He nearly sounded as young as he looked.  
  
“Lord Despil,” she acknowledged him. “We often don’t see you at all at court. Is it business or the Sawall reticence that keeps you away?”  
  
“Both, I guess,” he smiled, looking down a little self-consciously for a moment with a quiet laugh, and Sarah immediately understood the king’s choice on this one: Despil Sawall – Merlin’s second-youngest half-brother – was as shy and retiring as the as the youngest, Jurt, was fiery and rash. His gaze shifted, catching Sarah’s eyes. “And this would be Mistress Sarah.” He raised her left hand and actually kissed the back of it, making her smile and blush. “A pleasure. Please just call me Despil.”  
  
“Watch your protocol, my lord,” Gilva had the nerve to reprimand him, “she’s younger than she looks.”  
  
“We do want for her to feel welcome here,” he replied slyly, relinquishing her hand before turning away to briefly greet his neighbor to the left.  
  
_Okay, this crazy night is definitely making it into my journal_ , Sarah thought; she hadn’t bothered to keep one since she had arrived in Chaos, having no idea how it would hold up in shadow-travel (let alone the risk of either of her mentors reading it) but she was mentally storing up reams of information from her sojourns and experiences out here. What she had already would fill volumes.  
  
Merlin had gone to stand at the head of the table; suddenly everyone was raising their glasses in toast and Sarah raised hers, too.  
  
“To Chaos and her active dealings in the outer worlds,” he said loudly enough that the whole company could hear, “may they be peaceful for them and profitable for us!”  
  
“To Chaos!” reverberated through the room. Sarah toasted it with those next to her and drank as well. It still felt sort of strange, but not as strange as it had the first time under that brilliant red canopy of leaves.  
  
_To Chaos.  
_  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
(Incidental music: funky little computer groove for the Ghostwheel - Trash80 'Pain Fade Down'; looking out at Chaos from the Thelbane - Uroboros Choke, Nailed to the Sky, 'Checkmated' (the old one with the lyrics if you can find it); flight over Chaos - same album, 'Bread, Death, Sex  & Masks'. Just love some of Steve Devaney's soundscapes.)


	10. The Ball Keeps Rolling

Chapter 10 – The Ball Keeps Rolling  
  
A semi-formal society dinner nothing - that meal of Mandor Sawall’s was made of the stuff of legend. It was an entirely Chaosian feast, a full seven courses, but with small enough portions that the experience was enjoyable and not an exercise in gluttony or discomfort. Even the actual presentation of each course was nothing short of simplified elegance as wave after wave of dishes emanated down from the head of the table; various decanters literally flew about all evening, refilling glasses as necessary. But the food itself was probably the most surprising feature for Sarah: she only now realized just to what extent Mandor had heretofore catered not only to her Shadow Earth tastes, but also to her relative comfort levels. Some of the flavors – while exquisite – were almost too bold for her to handle. She literally had to watch her dining companions to know how to eat certain things, special utensils and all. And – delicious as it had been, as much as she tried not to think about it later - she was fairly certain that the fish course had not only been sushi-grade raw but nominally still alive!  
  
She had had to demurely endure some rather curious scrutiny at first, even one dark-haired woman who’d had the gall to will Sarah’s eyes to meet her own across the table in the attempt to silently read her, only to discover that she was too well warded magically, giving her a rather fake publicity-style lip-smile before returning to the artistically-assembled hors d’oeuvres. But once they were past the soup course, everyone started breaking off into little pockets of private conversation, so she was able to talk fairly freely with the people directly next to her relatively unnoted. Both Gilva and Despil had obviously been thoroughly briefed as to what topics could openly be discussed here and what couldn’t because they were too perfectly on the same page, largely sticking to certain aspects of Sarah’s training and her impressions of Chaos. Gilva carried most of the conversation with Despil only interjecting at certain points; he was rather unobtrusive, mostly just quietly listening to the two of them as he ate. While Sarah had initially found him charming, the longer she spent in his company the more she began to have an odd, funny feeling that there was much more to Despil Sawall than met the eye and ear, something dark, only half-hidden behind that disarming, secretive little smile of his; it was in his mundane mannerisms, the way he carried himself, the way he spoke. It was probably a strictly instinctual reaction, but somehow she just knew.  
  
_It’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for_ , she reflected, feeling his almost scientific level of attention though he wasn’t even looking at her, sensing the gears in his head whirring away. It also struck her for the first time that, in a society where what could easily be categorized as black magic or occult activity in other worlds was not only officially sanctioned by the state but condoned, it could be rather difficult to pinpoint individuals who had the potential of becoming problematic if not downright dangerous to that very society. The line was that thin.  
  
But, at present, he was simply being polite and easy company, doing his best to fulfill the relatively simple task of being a social (and physically literal) buffer between Sarah and the dignitaries to her left, while Gilva pressed her for details on her martial training upon hearing that Sarah had taken up the sword for exercise while at Mandorways.  
  
“Of course, basic technique cannot be overemphasized or rushed,” Gilva was practically gushing, “but have you gotten to handle any of the heavier swords yet? Or are you still just on the foil?”  
  
“Foil only,” Sarah replied between bites of a citrus sorbet that had an oddly astringent, clean tang to it that made it feel tonic. “Lord Mandor has hoped I wouldn’t ever need anything more than that.”  
  
Gilva gave an amused, rueful little lip-smile. “He would never be so uncouth as to say so aloud, but privately I’d be willing to wager he deems the practice of a woman bearing substantial arms unladylike. If you ever have the opportunity to learn the broadsword from a well-seasoned ‘man-of-arms’, so-to-speak, by all means do so; it’s wonderful for building your upper body strength as well as your confidence. And there are few experiences in life more satisfying than actually wielding one in an honorable cause; it’s a rather heady feeling.”  
  
“…I think I’m going to just have to take your word for it on that one,” Sarah laughed a little nervously, reaching for a roll to sop up the bloody, complexly-seasoned juices on her plate from the roast…whatever-it-was; the meat course was thankfully not served whole with the head still on, as the fish course had been. Gilva looked past her.  
  
“Anything to add to that, my lord the eternal pacifist?” she jestingly queried Despil. “You’ve been silent as a stone night-dragon over there for some time now.”  
  
“Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying hearing you two ladies chat,” he answered quietly with a note of mild amusement. “It isn’t every day one has the opportunity of hearing a woman of Hendrake casually expounding upon the inherent joys of hacking people to pieces on the battlefield. And over dinner, no less.”  
  
“Now, that right there,” Gilva sighed in annoyance, “is the exact stereotyped mindset that my kinswomen have had to fight since time-immemorial. Make no mistake, Sarah: for as far as the shadow-worlds inbetween may have evolved, it is still a man’s world at both far ends of the spectrum. But don’t ever let them cow you; the only appreciable difference in ability that cannot be breached is strictly reproductive – and we have the edge on them there,” she smirked proudly, taking another sip of wine.  
  
In short, the woman was simply astounding, and as the evening progressed Sarah found herself rather admiring her, hoping to one day be even half as capable and self-assured. She could well understand what Merlin saw in her; they might’ve even been similar in age.  
  
As unbelievable as it was by now, Mandor had obviously saved his best efforts for the last: Dessert was a lavish work of art that actually garnered some brief applause upon its presentation. Thin fountains of aqua-blue flame briefly poured over an outrageously delicate construction of hard sugar and meringue, caramelizing it, breaking it down over deep grooves in a lush dark torte, the unearthly fire flowing down to terminate in a moat at the base of the elaborate serving tray, where it died down to a faint glow. And Mandor personally sliced it up with a thin, double-handled knife nearly long enough to be a sword!  
  
_I know this!_ Sarah thought as a small dessert plate floated to her place and neatly settled before her. Sneaking a taste confirmed that the exotic concoction was similar to that thin, rich little slice of heaven that he’d left for her that catastrophic night that he’d had his mysterious date. Had he discreetly appropriated it from their own dinner? The thought had never crossed her mind. This one was sweet caramel with tart dark berries, though, versus the fudge with sweet. More sophisticated.  
  
As soon as everyone was served, all conversation stopped on a dime as the accompanying compulsion to slowly savor a culinary masterpiece their host had no doubt spent a lot of time planning out and setting up kicked in. And nobody minded – it was that good. Taste was clearly Mandor’s favorite sensory stimuli.  
  
Espresso service came around afterwards and of course Sarah had to accept a cup; it would’ve looked very odd if she hadn’t. From the snippets she was hearing around her, it seemed to be a rare novelty for these people – then she remembered Merlin’s comments in the Thelbane about coffee being difficult to get out here and realized that he must’ve requested this. She had only tried plain espresso once – just a sip from her mother’s cup at a fancy restaurant during a cast afterparty – and had instantly hated the bitterness. But when in Rome…  
  
_It’s barely over half-a-cup_ , she rationalized, raising it to her lips, anticipating that first acidic sip… then closed her eyes in surprised pleasure, taking a swallow instead: Mandor had spiked her portion with that private-reserve cacao of his, and just enough sugar to turn it bittersweet! A quick glance around the table showed no one else in the throes of chocolate-induced ecstasy, and a surreptitious look at Despil’s cup as he lowered it reinforced the fact that hers did look slightly different, but not so much so that anyone else would notice, especially over the strong collective aroma in the room. Was it just a concession or was it also a private message, a very deliberate attempt to try to make her feel nostalgic? Probably both, but she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that it had worked as she finished it off, fighting the urge to lick up the remnants; in all likelihood, she’d never taste that particular genetic variant of chocolate ever again.  
  
_That’s what it is_ , she thought suddenly, _look what you’re leaving behind, who you’re running from._ He may have been too big to hold a grudge, but there was still a good chance that she had actually hurt his feelings at some level. But it was too late now, and, everything considered, she wasn’t very sorry for this outcome; she would’ve otherwise still been biting her nails back over at Mandorways while he attempted to make the process of her ‘training’ endurable with any number of small diversions. _Oh, fine, he’s definitely succeeded; might as well go and thank him_ , she thought, starting to scoot her heavy chair back. The good feeling from the meal itself was only starting to hit her but it had obviously been hurried along by the modest amount of alcohol for those who had been drinking; the few remaining side conversations sounded much more relaxed now than they had been earlier during dinner.  
  
“Let me get that, Sarah,” Despil said, standing and pulling her chair out for her in one fluid, practiced move. “So this would be goodbye, then? A pity. And just when you were getting to like me.” He made a point of kissing her hand again, a playful twinkle in his stormy eyes.  
  
_Alright, maybe it’s not general malevolence_ , Sarah thought, _just a private garden variety. Still…  
_  
Gilva cleared her throat.  
  
“What?” he asked her. “I’m not about to let Jurt have all the fun, especially in his absence.” His voice dropped to a barely-audible murmur. “I hear Shadow-Earth girls are worth going after,” he managed without moving his lips, making Sarah lightly blush, averting her eyes. He glanced past her again, resuming his normal tone: “Or was that a signal that you desired assistance as well, my lady? I would never offend you by presuming you needed any help at all without being expressly asked,” he stated in all seriousness.  
  
Gilva gave him a frowning smile, shoving her chair out as if it were no heavier than wicker, and, standing, pushing it back in easily with one arm, showing her true physical strength. “Good save,” she acknowledged, “although the flirt does have a point,” she addressed Sarah; the woman towered over her. “I, too, am sorry that you must be leaving us so soon. If you ever have occasion to return to Chaos, look me up and we’ll have a vigorous fencing session together. In any event, never forget it’s up to us to show some of these self-inflated lords and princes what a woman is truly capable of,” she gave one final conspiratory smile and Sarah found herself smiling, too. There really was a version of hardcore feminism out here at the Rim; it was funny, thinking of a few rather belligerently vocal far-right commentators from her own shadow who would be screaming ‘I told you so!’ right now.  
  
But the moment was over; Sarah politely said her goodbyes and carefully worked her way across the room to Mandor, where he was practically surrounded by his guests. She was just a little bit surprised to discover that the king had already disappeared very discreetly, almost like he didn’t want to have to answer any questions. A quick glance behind showed her Gilva and Despil speaking close together and looking rather serious. Comparing note on her? Probably. She didn’t put anything past these people now, having experienced a bunch of them on their home turf, so-to-speak. Sarah highly suspected that Merlin had had a secondary reason for making certain that she was engaged in active conversation in this environment: it kept her from being able to pay too close of attention to the outrageous conversations going on around her. But she had heard enough anyway. Chaosian high society appeared to operate rather like a game, like a bizarre hybrid of mental chess, charades, and Russian roulette! They talked circles around each other in vagarities, trying to tease out each other’s secrets and weaknesses for direct personal gain, even going so far as to openly congratulate someone for getting the better of one on a previous occasion! She could well-imagine Lord Suhuy not wanting her exposed to this impromptu exposé on terribly callous, jaded casual interaction; he was notably missing from this little gathering also.  
  
And speaking of interaction, there was absolutely no way in Chaos that she could speak privately with Mandor now; he was simply too well hemmed in on a few basic levels. Even she had been having to deliberately ignore some fielded questions from rather curious total strangers (really she should’ve rehearsed better for this.) She did briefly catch the Chaos lord’s eye, however, but how he responded initially threw her for a loop: he had made eye-contact, then pointedly glanced at a specific point behind her to her left, then back at her again with his statesman’s smile, effortlessly continuing his half of the conversation straight on through! His intimation quickly dawned on her, though – he had just pointed out the exit she could take. Checking out the wall behind her to her left, she easily located the tension of the way, and, taking in the sight of the room and all those resplendent people one final time – she caught Despil toasting her with that dangerous, quiet smile – she inconspicuously slipped away…  
  
…into a small, rough-stone hallway with a cylindrical ceiling, the close hall lit with green-fire braziers. Just on the other side of both walls she could hear a hurricane-force gale roaring away, pounding against the small chamber! Suddenly ill-at-ease and worried that she may have accidentally taken a wrong turn, Sarah quickly unfolded her map: where she appeared to be was nowhere within the safely-marked passageways and rooms. In fact, this hallway wasn’t adjacent to the dining room at all! She was officially in no-man’s land. Starting to panic a little, Sarah tried the way that she had just come through, only to discover that it only opened in one direction – how she had gotten in. There was no going back through that wall. She briefly considered trumping for help but almost immediately decided against it. This was a real rookie mistake on her part; if she had to go crying to Mandor now it could seriously undermine the king’s personal judgment in choosing to actively use her as he was planning on. Not that she wasn’t questioning it herself at this point, but all the same…  
  
She shuffled out Mandor’s trump anyway (this was so embarrassing) and kept it firmly in hand as she put the rest of the cards and the map away; if she got in serious trouble she had to be able to reach him instantaneously, but she was seriously hoping it wouldn’t come to that. Basic training reminded her to summon up her version of the Logrus – which she did – and to have it precede her down the hall; she doubted hers would be useful this way but the normal ones would alert if danger was ahead. It was worth a shot. With any luck, her bravado wasn’t going to get her killed.  
  
Advancing slowly and carefully, she made her way down the thin, cramped hall (which was nearly making her feel claustrophobic by now); turning left, she navigated a short flight of stone steps down, feeling for ways to make sure she didn’t get sucked through unawares – there were none. The staircase terminated at an open doorway hung over on the inside with a long, thick tapestry. Tentatively lifting it aside, Sarah was relieved to see familiar surroundings: it was the room they had set her up in for the night! She jogged through the way and collapsed in relief on the large mattress. Then curiosity got the better of her and she got back up and lifted the tapestry again (it was of a panorama of the Sliding Mountains with the dancing stars above) only to find solid wall behind it. Pressing her ear up to it, there was silence on the other side. Genuinely intrigued now, she took the map over to the work table; upon very tedious examination, it finally revealed that the tiny hallway she had just emerged from was most likely a specific small section of one of the back service passageways that honeycombed the outer portions of the compound. Mandor had most likely gone to the trouble of hurriedly tacking this one where it was to connect the dining hall to her room so that she could make it back here relatively unobserved. She wondered if anyone else could come through in like fashion for a moment, then dismissed the idea out-of-hand. She knew that was why he had done this; it would have defeated the entire purpose of the exercise otherwise. _Well, all right, then_ , she shook her head, refolding the map and putting it away.  
  
What to do at 9:00 p.m. (roughly) on a Saturday night in Chaos? Actually, she had no idea what day of the week it might’ve been, and, besides, nobody bothered to measure time like that here; they were lucky just to have ‘days’ and ‘hours’. There weren’t even seasons as such this close to the Rim.  
  
While her room was definitely clean, it had obviously been sparsely finished at the last minute; only things that were physically necessary for her short stay were in here. Not even anything to read, save the notes on Amberite Thari that she herself had jotted down only hours ago. And now that there were extra people wandering about the Ways of Sawall, she probably shouldn’t go out again. She sighed and went to sit on the shaggy, black fur rug in front of the hearth, watching the golden flames artistically weave and crackle. She still had almost no idea of what tomorrow would bring except that she wouldn’t be here for most of it. She would be ostensibly on her own, trying to blend in at the other pole of existence.  
  
Sarah never in her life would’ve believed that she was going to miss Chaos, but now that her departure was so close she was starting to feel that loss. These worlds were simply crazy but there was just nowhere else like them. Time felt synthetic here, its passage less marked. Any place, anything you could imagine, was within reach – literally. Scary or intimidating things and creatures weren’t necessarily evil out here, the way their shadow-counterparts could be farther away from the Rim, far from their full history and cultural worldview. And then, of course, there were the people. True, her personal experience had been rather limited, but it seemed that a handful of the nicest individuals in the known universes were located at the edge – and the worse the stereotype, the harder they worked at being nice. It couldn’t possibly be true across the board, but the phenomena had certainly made an impression. Sarah already missed Sofi and was hoping that she hadn’t gotten the demoness into trouble, that Mandor would take good care of her for many years to come; it briefly occurred to her that she still had the trump of that play-shadow, but then she realized that she had no way of knowing whether Sofi was still stationed there, or if Mandor was even bothering to keep up the place now that she was leaving. It might not even be safe to look in on.  
  
Mandor. If there was ever a mystery of a man, he was it: genteel, genuinely pleasant and slightly retiring on the outside, with only powers-knew-what going on in that head. She had seriously thought she had really known him, only to have his dark, dangerous side paraded out this morning by the king just to gauge her reaction (she was fairly certain that was why Merlin had told her all of that; he hadn’t needed to.) Now she didn’t know what she should think or feel towards him; he was an oddly mixed bag in himself. In a weird, messed-up sort of way, she found that she still kind of admired him, but it was something that she wouldn’t as readily admit to anyone anymore.  
  
Or did that only mean that he was that good at playing the game? Sarah closed her eyes a moment, shutting out the world. As distasteful an idea as it was, there was the distinct possibility that it was the truth. These people seemed to live so long as to outgrow any subjective sense of how to treat each other. Even if this were the case, he still wasn’t entirely to blame, but…  
  
Her train of thought going nowhere productive, Sarah got up and changed back into the other outfit (there hadn’t even been any nightwear provided, but this was technically comfortable enough) and got ready for bed, deciding to make an early night of it. There was probably going to be tons to do in the morning before she could leave for Amber.  
  
Amber – now there was a thought. The reality that her own native sense of reality ultimately hailed from. The City of the Unicorn, ancient rival of the Serpent of Chaos, the power of Ordered Intelligence itself – Herself, she should say; Sarah wasn’t certain of the Pattern of Amber (harbinger of that great Order) but the Unicorn physically manifested female. In some bizarre fashion, She was literally the progenitor of the royal House of Amber. Which really made all of those warring, conniving princes and princesses the heirs of the powers in a way that Sarah didn’t quite know how to think of at all, let alone deal with. They were no respecters of persons and least of all each other, as it had been with their father and his deceased siblings before them; there was more than enough power for all to share, but not with any level of comfort or safety. The War had served as a bitter reminder as to where their first allegiance lay, however – to Amber herself – and (for the most part) the active in-fighting and animosity had been laid aside for the time being. But history dictated that it would not remain so, not in the long run anyway. There was even a movement in the Courts that was quickly gaining popularity that was in favor of just letting the House of Barimen self-destruct, coming in later to clean up the mess, as it were; the way things looked they seemed to have a good point, but that was a battle of attrition that could very well take eons to fully play out.  
  
Their amazing health and longevity aside, the Unicorn’s grandchildren more-or-less appeared and behaved rather like normal human beings, or at least like Chaosians with very little magic to speak of, magic being an irrational power and hence almost non-existent over there in comparison to the Courts. By some whim of fate or destiny, the youngest son, Random, had been handpicked (horn-picked?) by the Unicorn Herself to succeed Oberon Barimen after his death at Patternfall when he repaired a flaw in the original Pattern at the cost of his own life; even before this, Oberon had been missing for so long there had nearly been civil war between the princes for the throne. But then they had had their own problems with the Courts during that time of internal weakness, hinging on a mad traitor from their own ranks.  
  
And, somehow at some point in time, one of those people (more likely an errant prince) had hooked up with somebody else (goodness-knows-who), and the result was Sarah’s original, and the ripple-effect of Amber reached down through time and shadow to create Sarah as she was right now. It was almost too much to even contemplate, but she kept thinking about it anyway in bed, turning it over and over in her mind until total exhausted bewilderment led to sleep and dreams.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
…she was in a beautifully lush primeval forest, verdant green for a change and not purple or orange; the smell, the sounds, the light filtering down through the tall, strong trees seemed almost Earthlike, save that the colors were still more vibrant even if the spectrum was technically ‘correct’. She simply wandered for what seemed a long time, lazily exploring old footpaths and wagon tracks, noting that she seemed to be wearing a brown-and-cream medieval-style peasant dress, when she suddenly heard a hunting horn give a single long, clear blast far in the distance, followed by the sound of dogs baying and yapping. And many horse-hooves pounding the ground – they were getting closer. A falcon screech tore through the still air, and only seconds later an adult male chimera leapt through the foliage in a full-run less than a hundred yards away – and made straight toward her! Sarah screamed and took off, running as hard as she possibly could, faster than any human should be able to, and still the beast seemed on the verge of closing in on her, she could feel it’s hot breath at her back. The world blurred away all around her, changing, until the trees of the forest had turned to copper and steel, the soft loam beneath her bare feet replaced with hard, polished tile, the chimera would be on her any second now…  
  
…but a glance back showed nothing but a hall – nobody there! She was alone...  
  
Except the chimera came around from behind a metal tree just a few yards ahead of her, upright on his hind-legs, and changed into the form of a man before her very eyes. A man with hair as crazy as the lion’s mane of the beast, as dangerous; he leaned casually against the tree with one booted foot resting against the bole, spinning three clear crystals around in one hand. He was turning to face her with a nasty-sounding chuckle…  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Sarah awoke with a gasp in the partially-lit stone room; she hadn’t been able to manually snuff out the high candles in the black-metal candelabra hung from the ceiling, but she wasn’t sure about using too much of her magic in this place anyway and had decided on just leaving them lit for convenience sake; she hadn’t found any matches in here, either. It figured that she’d have at least one stress nightmare like this right before she left on assignment to Amber.  
  
And then the sudden realization of what it really was and meant fully hit her and she sat up and gave her pillow a good pummeling before burying her face in it to muffle an aggravated scream! If Jareth had been here right this instant she would’ve throttled him! It was all so blindingly, stupidly obvious! He had personally ensured that she would develop a sufficient level of paranoia to get herself kicked out of Mandorways! But had he had any motive beyond petty revenge on both her and Mandor, though? Had he thought that she would have a better chance of finding Ghost-Corwin if she were being shuffled elsewhere in Chaos? Was that what it meant?  
  
Sarah rolled over with a groan. There was only one way to find out; hopefully she wouldn’t get into any more trouble for doing this than she already was. Getting up, she got a fast drink of water, pulled back her hair, pulled on her boots, grabbed her cleaned gasmask, and strapped on her trump pouch, heading out and down the hall to the turnstile this time. Zipping about it backward counterclockwise four times, she came back into the main hall, which was dark now; even the fire in the ornamental fireplace had been allowed to bank down a little. Producing a small spirit-light, she double-checked the map before heading off the plush blue runner-carpet, and, reaching a certain way, sank straight through the floor, coming out into a larger, more modern-looking hallway. She would have to be very quiet in this passage; many of the adjacent ways from here were frequently traversed and led to numerous parts of the ‘house’. The one she was looking for should be very small and thin. It took a little careful deduction but she finally located it - the emergency shortcut out of the art maze - and took it, letting it pull her through into the presence of that garish jabberwocky skeleton again. The fact that somebody had even found one gave her the creeps; she would never look at Lewis Carroll’s literary works quite in the same light ever again!  
  
Walking through the wall to the rear of it, she quickly strode down the gallery hall with purpose until she came to the section with the hammered metal trees once more – where Jareth had been in the dream, where her whistler had seemed to be hiding. The lighting was the same as ever but this place felt downright spooky at night – was this night? There was no way of knowing. It was always night here somewhere.  
  
“Hey, Chim-Cheree, you still here?” she boldly called out in English. “Sorry I had to run before – didn’t have a choice!”  
  
Silence.  
  
“Hello? Bert?”  
  
Still silence. Maybe she was just being stupid – who knows what she had been hearing before dinner; it could’ve been anything from some unspeakable creature hiding out in here and playing games to a latent spell somebody had left lying around as a prank. Maybe this was a really bad idea. No response was probably unbelievably lucky on her part. Sarah was about to turn on her heel and run straight back to her room while she still had the chance when she heard a faint voice from directly above her, distinctly male.  
  
“Up here.” In English.  
  
Nothing more.  
  
She stopped. “Who are you?” she ventured.  
  
“That depends. Get up here and see.”  
  
If this wasn’t foolhardy, Sarah didn’t know what was. Still, the fact remained that there did indeed seem to be a real person in here that had at least trivial knowledge of Shadow Earth. If it wasn’t just a trick. Summoning up her version of the Logrus for protection (better safe than sorry), Sarah looked around for a way to get up into the fake tree. There were no footholds, nothing to hang onto down here, and it was far enough from the others that she wouldn’t care to try and jump over from one of them. Just to the left and back of this display was a collection of long weapons, some of which looked strictly decorative, but they were all still pretty sharp on the whole and she certainly didn’t want to risk falling into them. If only there was a way she could just float up, it would be easy to see if anything was really hiding up there…  
  
Her hoverboard! But it was still back at Mandorways along with some other stuff (she’d have to ask Merlin about retrieving the rest of her personal affects in the morning.) Could she pull it through from there herself? Technically-speaking, it wasn’t that far away. She’d never had much luck with pulling objects through Shadow - it seemed like a real strain on her power and she always paid for it afterwards either physically or mentally – but she had to try. Bracing herself, she reached toward her Logrus, watching the center become an inky pool blacker than black, and steadied her nerves and her breathing as her hands sank into two tendrils nearly up to the elbow as she concentrated on the form of the object she desired – long, hard, thin, flat, white, footholds – and eventually she grabbed something hard and quickly hauled it through the portal…  
  
It worked! Sarah briefly hugged the familiar board tightly to herself, waiting for the panic attack to elapse as she stood there with her eyes closed, breathing deeply. After a couple minutes it had subsided sufficiently for her to mount the board and will it to lift her up slowly. Even at ceiling-level she couldn’t see anything through the thickly-leaved copper branches. Probing the top of the tree with the Logrus tentacles revealed a hidden way, however; most of the top was an immaculately-crafted illusion, she should be able to sail straight through. Sarah flew in closer and took a deep breath, holding the gasmask tightly up to her face…  
  
…and suddenly found herself inside an artificially-lit small stone chapel! Sailing back into the way again, she instantly re-emerged in the art maze: it was a safe two-directional way, and she headed back in. This time she eased up on the mask a bit, taking a small tentative breath with her eyes winced closed; the air in here seemed okay, and she lowered it. Staying on the board for fear of stumbling through hidden ways in here, she glided up a very short aisle of pews and huge unlit black candles to the altar, which was a kind of shrine setup with wax remnants of burned-down silver candles from a long row of screw-in holders, a sheathed saber with the belt attached, and a single silver rose in a tiny vase; the flower actually looked real, not just more worked metal – beautiful.  
  
But above all of this was the real showstopper: there was an exquisite two-by-three-foot oil painting of a handsome man rendered to just below the waist, possibly in his early forties, with dark hair and the greenest of eyes, dressed in fine black-and-silver cavalier period costume, with a silver rose clasp at the throat of his cape. Sarah’s breath caught – it was the man from her dream earlier that day! Down on the floor beneath her board a few feet back and to the right was an odd tableau, partly in tile, partly inscribed directly onto the floor: an unmistakable representation of the Pit of Chaos at one end, another that had to be Amber on the other, and a pentagram set between them with more remnants of wax at the points. The whole place looked and felt abandoned, like nobody came here anymore. What it had all been for originally she could only guess at. She fingered her trump pack a little nervously.  
  
“Okay, Bert, I’m here,” she announced, trying not to let her voice shake.  
  
She nearly dropped the gasmask as the portrait instantly came to life! Its principle only studied her for a second or two, but that intense forest-green gaze made it feel much longer. Undoubtedly sizing her up.  
  
“What’s a young Patterner like you doing here with the legions of Chaos?” he asked imperiously and with such a level of authority that Sarah was nearly apologizing before she collected her wits! He certainly seemed to ‘fit’ up there on that altar!  
  
“One could easily ask you the same question, sir,” she carefully replied, not about to be ‘cowed’ by a show of force but not wanting to be offensive, either. “It’s not entirely my choice if that’s what you’re getting at. Hopefully, I’ll be able to go back home soon.”  
  
He crossed his arms. Those eyes were terribly cold, as judging as some foreign god. “To what purpose?”  
  
“To live the rest of my life. That’s all.”  
  
“Then why are you here?”  
  
“Training,” she sighed. “I did something real dumb and wound up with a lot more than I bargained for, than I could deal with on my own. I needed help badly and I got it unsearched for.”  
  
“And you hold no animosity toward Amber or the Order-shadows? Answer me truthfully.”  
  
Sarah suddenly found herself saying, “I do not,” almost before she realized she was even speaking! She gasped, wide-eyed.  
  
The figure in the painting relaxed just a bit but his expression was still guarded, almost a little quizzical. “You got a name, kid?”  
  
Sarah was really leery of him now! “Sarah,” she stated definitively. She wasn’t about to hand him her last name. Not like this.  
  
He lightly smirked at her reaction. “Where’s home?”  
  
“Shadow Earth. Downstate New York.”  
  
His expression lightened even further. “Big home,” he gently teased. “Alright, you’ve seen what’s worth seeing in here, now move along before you get into trouble for just being here. Don’t mention to anyone that you actually saw or spoke with me.” He stopped. “By-the-way, how did you get up here?”  
  
She checked the floor right below her with a Logrus strand – it was safe. “Hoverboard,” she smiled a little, hopping off of it, holding it up to show him.  
  
The man just rolled his eyes. “Get outta here, kid,” he waved her off, “this isn’t any place for you to be fooling around,” he began to turn to brush strokes again. “Get back to Earth, stay there and prosper in peace. The cult-figure has spoken.”  
  
“Wait!” Sarah had the feeling that once that painting returned he wasn’t coming back! “You never told me your name! Is it Corwin?” she dared. That question was probably really dangerous but she knew she’d never have another chance.  
  
The figure stopped in mid-transformation.  
  
“And what if it was?”  
  
“Then I’m here to rescue you.”  
  
The man burst into hardy laughter, coming back fully; the sound of his rich baritone voice made the little chapel ring.  
  
“That’s the richest thing I’ve heard in ages! Do you even have any inkling as to where you’re currently standing?”  
  
“No, but if you’d stop mocking me for a second and tell me how I can help you, I’d be willing to try!” Sarah responded indignantly, putting her free hand on her hip.  
  
That garnered raised eyebrows. “You would actually be willing to free me, not knowing who I am?”  
  
“I saw a man in a dark cell briefly. He said the word ‘Corwin’.” She hesitated. “He looked a lot like you. If you’re not just an elaborate illusion.” She extended a Logrus tentacle toward the painting to examine it.  
  
“Don’t do that!” he suddenly shouted, “You’ll set off the alarm! It took me ages to get this blasted image-transfer spell to work from the inside; if you even touch it with that we’ll be cut off!”  
  
“Sorry!” she instantly apologized, banishing her Logrus completely.  
  
He just stared at her for a moment, no longer smiling. “You are in earnest.”  
  
“Of course I am.”  
  
He seemed to seriously consider her for a minute. “What’s your price?” he finally stated.  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“Altruism is dead,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Some itinerant wizard didn’t just send you looking for me out of the kindness of his heart. You obviously know nothing of this business. Who sent you?”  
  
“I know I’m addressing the Pattern-ghost of a Prince of Amber,” she whispered irritatedly, “and if I tell you who showed you to me, you’re going to have to promise you’re not going to wink out on me until I’ve had a chance to fully explain the situation.”  
  
Shadow-Corwin heaved a great sigh, crossing his arms again. “I’m not going anywhere, kid. Start talking.”  
  
And Sarah did – all about Jareth, his vague cosmic relation to Lord Mandor Sawall, his self-inflicted predicament, and how she knew him; she even ventured slightly into her own training – just enough for him to know what she was capable of. The guy obviously had serious doubts on this point but, annoying as it was, she sort of understood his misgivings about her with where he was coming from. He had a lot of questions she simply couldn’t answer, but she did her best all the same.  
  
“Now, let me see if I’ve got this straight,” he eventually stated, “this crazy asshole ‘freed’ you from the stifling care of Lord Mandor Sawall so that you could ‘liberate’ me, and I in turn, out of eternal gratitude, am not only supposed to free this renegade but take him on as an apprentice?! I’m not even sure gaining my own liberty is worth that kind of hassle. And he really is a second-rate sorceror if he thinks you can spring me all by yourself.”  
  
“Hey, I know I’m young, but I’m far from incompetent!” Sarah protested. “I made it through the worst of the Fixed Logri in one piece, I beat Jareth at his own game on his own turf. What is it that you think I’m incapable of? You’ve obviously been in there long enough to figure out just how you’re imprisoned, how the system works. Can’t you just talk me through what needs to happen here?”  
  
“It’s not that easy,” he shook his head. “I’ll tell you, but you can’t come in here from out there or you’ll be trapped same as me. Worse, actually – nobody even comes here with food anymore, haven’t in years. My captor most likely considers me dead; I assumed I would’ve dissolved by now myself, but this very place has been unintentionally feeding me energy, keeping me alive. Structurally-speaking, I physically have more in common with these tentative walls than I do with either you or my original. Will you promise me you won’t go tinkering with this, to just stay where you are and then to depart?”  
  
Sarah sighed; so much for this brilliant idea.  
  
“I promise,” she answered dejectedly.  
  
“It’s for your own good, Sarah,” he smiled a little sadly. “There’s a hidden way in the representation of Chaos on the floor in the corner, but don’t go anywhere near it; since the time that I got my original out, the way has been altered to be single-directional for security reasons – it’s still easy to get in, it would even be easy to let me out of my cell, but you would find it impossible to return as you came to the room above or to shadow-walk out. Bet nobody even taught you about the trumps, with all the showy sorcery that goes on in the Courts.”  
  
“Of course they did!” she replied a bit indignantly. “I even carry my own pack-”  
  
She suddenly stopped short; a very odd light had just come into his eyes that instinctively made her extremely wary.  
  
“Show me them.”  
  
The command sounded every bit as authoritative as his initial accusations of her, but the phrase seemed to hold more weight, more power, and for a moment Sarah couldn’t think, couldn’t look away, her right hand drifted toward the pouch on her hip of its own volition…  
  
And the next moment she was mentally wrestling him for control, her gaze wrenched aside, just barely able to stop moving, frantically reminding herself that Mandor once said she had a very strong will outside of any power. It was all she had now – she couldn’t afford to divert any attention at all to recall the Logrus!  
  
“They won’t help you!” she managed through gritted teeth, her own hand muscles about to betray her, on the verge of opening the pouch. “They’re all practice shadows designed by Suhuy and Mandor! They’re impervious to shadow-walking!”  
  
The pressure suddenly let up and she did a full-body shiver, catching her breath.  
  
“Damn,” he sighed. “That would’ve been too easy. You know, I had fully planned on taking you with me in the same manner so you wouldn’t be left holding the bag nor be personally responsible for my escape; claiming innocent victimhood would be automatic in that kind of case and anyone would believe you if questioned. How much of an asshole do you take me for?”  
  
“To be honest, I really don’t know,” Sarah bitterly observed, summoning her Logrus into readiness once more. “You’re sort of killing my general goodwill here. I’m starting to think there’s a legitimate reason your original was in there if he’s anything like you.”  
  
“My original was caught unawares and trapped here due to a far more powerful lady’s fear,” he countered easily, “but it was never his – or by proxy, my – intention to harm her or any of her house without due cause, then or now. He had actually made the mistake of loving her once.”  
  
_Her? But that could mean… oh, wait a minute…  
_  
“How in the worlds are you even managing that trick?!” Sarah asked, flabbergasted; princes of Amber weren’t suppose to have power like that! “I’m warded against magical attacks on my person; I saw it work less than half-a-day ago!”  
  
Ghost-Corwin surrendered a small smile. “Not all psy phenomena is magic-based; the more reliable forms are entirely dependent upon sympathetic brainwave transmission,” he casually lectured. “My original has never had much luck in initiating such subtly coercive exchanges without inflicting real psychological damage, but then again I suspect he hasn’t thought it would get any easier with practice, either. I, on the other hand, have had nothing at all to do for years but to hone my latent mental abilities in here, although I had hoped to have better occasion to use that one. You appear well-meaning – I’ll grant that much – but you’re still far too inexperienced to be of any use to me. Tell your ally to come himself if he’s a taste for a smaller prison than the one he’s already in; it could be entertaining for yours truly even if nothing else comes of it. Keep practicing, kid; for a full-blooded human that was actually a fairly impressive display.”  
  
He commenced disappearing again.  
  
There was one trump in Sarah’s pack that could potentially help him, but she had hoped she wouldn’t have to bring outside help into this socio-political dilemma. But if this was the only way…She swallowed her pride.  
  
“Would you rather talk to your son Merlin instead?”  
  
The image stopped changing midway, the expression dubious. His eyes had flashed wider for a second, though; that was telling.  
  
“What did you say?”  
  
Sarah averted her eyes, unable to hold that intensity, then sighed, defeated. “I have his trump; I’ll let you speak to him if you want to. I’m certain he’d know what to do. He doesn’t even know you’re in here, does he?” Without another word, she produced the cards of her own accord and, thumbing through them, pulled out Merlin’s, the familiar tableau of the Earth-businessman gracing the face-side. When she looked back up and showed it to him, his expression was nothing short of astounded, almost moved. Then he closed his eyes against it.  
  
“No. He once knew that I was here for he was with me when I exchanged places with his old man, but he has no idea that I have remained here. I will not burden his conscience with my folly; the choice to do this was entirely mine – he would have prevented it. Put it away.”  
  
Sarah cautiously did so, terribly aware that even with him caged, if he so chose it was completely within his power to do whatever he wished with her! After a few seconds he opened his eyes again.  
  
“How did you come by that? How do you know him?” The concern in his voice was fatherly enough.  
  
“I guess you could say I’m working for him right now,” she gave a small tentative smile, “he’s got one short assignment for he and then he’s going to send me straight home. I really like him; he seems like a nice guy,” she added, hoping to lighten his mood a little. It was true, though.  
  
Ghost-Corwin just shook his head with a rueful smirk. “You don’t need me for anything at all. You were duped into looking for me in the first place. I am glad that you are in such capable hands, however, but the sooner you get out of the Courts the better; the king is rumored to have eyes and ears everywhere, patrolling his own nobles like they were enemy spies. It would be a small act of fate if he is not already aware of your existence.”  
  
“But… Merlin is the king,” Sarah faltered awkwardly, “you didn’t know?”  
  
His eyes widened in dawning comprehension for a moment before that jaded smile Sarah had seen in her dream graced his countenance.  
  
“So they caught him anyway, after all that. You wouldn’t happen to know how it fell out?”  
  
“I gather from listening to him talk that it was the lesser of several evils and he chose to take the fall to keep the peace. I think it still bothers him, though; he seemed kind of stressed out when I met him yesterday morning-”  
  
“He’s only known you for a single day and he gave you a trump of himself?!”  
  
“Yeah, well…it’s kind of a long story,” Sarah demurred.  
  
The jaded smile persisted. “He’s getting you away from his foster-brother. And possibly his uncle.”  
  
“It would appear so.”  
  
He stopped smiling and just held her eyes for a few seconds. She could feel his mind gently probing her own…then it stopped; he nodded, the cold amused expression softened.  
  
“You do have a good heart. I will never forget this, but nevertheless I wish for you to forget me. Don’t worry about me; one way or another I’ll be all right. Now go and get some rest.”  
  
“But if I can help-”  
  
“How would you even return here, let alone get in?” he asked incredulously. “You certainly can’t shadow-walk this far – I don’t think even my original could do it unaided.”  
  
“But if I could do it somehow,” Sarah pressed him, “would you help Jareth?”  
  
Ghost-Corwin laughed at her persistence, shaking his head. “If by some miracle the Logrus ever grants you that kind of power, you can personally consider me at your service – for a little while, anyway; I do have to get back to my post guarding my Pattern; my reliever is probably ready to kill me for leaving him stuck there for so long by himself. Beyond that, aiding and abetting the lunatic who set you on my trail falls under the category of supplication,” he only half-teased. “Light a fresh candle to me and I’ll consider it,” he crossed his arms, turning aside, looking as imperious and presumptive as a demigod.  
  
_Well, I guess this is about the only thing I haven’t done yet_ , Sarah thought, ruefully amused. It might’ve been mildly blasphemous, but she only had to go through the motions; it wasn’t like he was making her pray or anything. It took about a minute to locate the supplies – what little was left had been hidden away in a small side cabinet that blended in perfectly with the upper part of the shrine – but Sarah found five of the little silver candles and screwed one into the holder near the center. There were no matches, but concentrating hard for about a minute she just managed to magically generate a spark with her fingertips, making the little taper glow bright and warm in the weirdly-lit room.  
  
“Nus a dhabshun dhuilsha, Sarah.”  
  
Sarah looked up in surprise – he had just formally blessed her in Amberite-inflected Thari!  
  
But the canvas was only paint once more. Ghost-Corwin was gone.  
  
She said a short prayer anyway, not to him but for him, unsure of who she was supposed to be addressing anymore, then got back on her hoverboard and got the heck out of there, not bothering to disembark until she was safely in her rooms again, the terrible responsibility of what she had likely just initiated falling heavily over her shoulders. She had to save him somehow. She had to. She would find a way to do it if it took her the rest of her life to figure it out. It felt that important.  
  
Stashing the hoverboard behind one of the thicker floor-length tapestries (with any luck it wouldn’t be discovered until she was long gone), Sarah went back to bed, knowing it would be ages before she could fall asleep again.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
The following morning was every bit as hectic and hurried as Sarah had anticipated. She was awoken by the same serving woman she had seen previously the day before; she was carrying a breakfast tray, which she sat down in front of Sarah, then proceeded to lay out a nice but modest peasant-looking dress ensemble at the foot of the bed, whilst basically admonishing her, as demurely as possible, to get her rear in gear – the king himself was already downstairs, waiting for her! As much as Sarah wanted to savor this last meal of Mandor’s, she knew there wasn’t the time, and, once she was cleaned up for the day, she wound up scarfing down the egg-and-exotic-vegetable mélange and rich-grained toast with spicy-sweet citrus preserves as the serving woman rapidly helped her to dress and fixed her hair for her. Sarah polished off a final perfect cup of tea and was on her way down.  
  
This was it! She checked for the umpteenth time to make sure that she had everything with her; she had been provided with a medium-sized brown-leather cross-body bag so her hands were free, and her brooch had been artfully pinned to the inside of her dress, right above her heart (there was some slight ornamentation on the outside right there, so the tiny sliver of gold-tinted metal didn’t show.) She could easily reach her trump pouch through a hidden slit in the skirt, as on many other dresses she had worn here. Her leather shoes were sturdy but comfortable. The visual effect struck her as positively mundane after all that sleek, dark-colored Chaosian fashion she had become accustomed to wearing during her tenure here: clean, natural cream, earth tones, and a rusty crimson with slight embroidered embellishments. She had everything just right. The serving woman had all bur shoved her out of the room, anxious to be about stripping the bed and washing the sheets and towels. Sarah momentarily worried about the hidden hoverboard, then firmly put it out of her mind, walking purposefully down the hallway left to the etheric turnstile, heading round to the grand entrance. If and when Mandor was informed of the discovery, he would only think she had been up to a little silly horsing around last night for old times’ sake; he didn’t need to know any more than that.  
  
Upon reaching the correct room, Sarah nearly froze upon seeing the large, sinister-looking, lavishly-robed demon-formed figure pacing up and down the blue carpet-runner, but as he turned and saw her his savage bestial eyes brightened with a sharp, toothy smile, well noting her hesitation.  
  
“Remember me, Sarah? The guy who employed you yesterday?” he asked teasingly in Thari.  
  
And at that she relaxed again, recognizing the voice – it was Merlin! He looked every inch the King of Chaos in this form.  
  
“Of course, your Exalted Excellency,” she smiled with a curtsy, then walked over to join him, “I just hadn’t expected…” she let the sentence hang, suddenly unable to think of a way to finish it that wouldn’t be considered gauche.  
  
He smirked. “If you were staying here I’d say you’d better get used to this; it’s rather uncommon for Chaosian lords and ladies to show their more physically vulnerable forms except in private with those they know well. Shall we?” he offered an arm. She took it, feeling how enormously muscled it was beneath the loose-fitting garments, and together they walked to the waypoint in the floor and sank through into the modern corridor. Choosing another way to the left, they emerged in what appeared to be a parlor of sorts: lots of jewel-toned chairs and sofas, a couple small floating end-tables carrying various glasses and carafes, and a collection of musical instruments along the back wall. Sarah briefly recalled Mandor’s passing comment about only listening to live music; he had to have performers in here occasionally and she rued that she had never gotten to hear it.  
  
The king chose the deep-blue lounge – Sarah instantly recognized it as the one from the portrait – and they sat down. Even sitting, he towered over her in his power-form.  
  
“Well, ready to go get that big beautiful world?” he asked, sensing her excitement. “Amber’s quite a lot like Shadow Earth in many mundane physical aspects, just a lot more pristine, and due to how hard it is to shadow-shift out there the populace is still pre-industrial, but none the worse off for it on the whole. The pace of life is definitely slower in consequence – not a bad thing in and of itself. Just being on the True World (as the locals call it) has been known to add years of life to anyone who goes there, the elements are so healthy, and, as I stated before, many do go there on vacation; Random has really opened up the country to certain controlled sectors of the outside world, and especially with no immediate threats coming from Chaos anymore.”  
  
Sarah smiled a little bitterly. “Except for those you send there.”  
  
Merlin gave a slight frown. “Petty reconnaissance for the purposes of keeping the peace is hardly a threat, Sarah. Unless you see yourself as one – did my brother and uncle radicalize you more than you let on?”  
  
“No!” she laughed.  
  
“Then for as long as you are there, if anyone asks – and they will ask at least at any respectable hostelry or inn – your name is to be S’Aiya Naylor from the shadow of Begma - that’s the closest member of the Golden Circle - and you are on your first short holiday in the city funded by your tradesman father Clorindo on the occasion of your coming-of-age – that’s easy enough to remember, isn’t it?”  
  
Sarah nodded eagerly.  
  
“Now then,” he continued, drawing a glowing rectangle in midair and commencing a rough sketch, “as to finding your original: considering both her probable age as well as the time of the year there right now – early summer – you might have the best luck if you concentrate most of your time and attention on Temple Street; that’s the city’s arts, entertainment, and novelty shopping district all in one place, most of it anyway,” he said, adding in a long, sinuous streak just east of the fortress-box that demarcated the castle, running smack through the center of town, “but you should be frequenting the Main Concourse also – that’s the rest of the major businesses,” he made another line that paralleled the first; it terminated at the castle itself. “Just stay away from the waterfront and the ghettos over here,” he circled a swath of the southwest corridor, “and you should be fine. In short, I’m officially giving you carte blanche to enjoy yourself for a few days, but nevertheless keep your eyes peeled. If you do locate her – trust me, you’ll know, although Ghost should be able to verify at that close of proximity – you may follow her, albeit it very discreetly and at a distance, and if she appears to be doing anything even remotely suspicious-looking, you are to get someplace private and contact me immediately, do you understand?”  
  
“Of course, your Excellency.”  
  
The map vanished in a poof of cobalt-blue smoke that dissipated quickly. “Maps of the city can easily be obtained there, but you shouldn’t need one if you stay where I’ve advised and at least keep to the main roads. A hike about the nicer residential sections can’t hurt, but it’s probably unnecessary; everyone comes to the shops regularly, even some of the nobility. Do yourself a big favor and stay away from the country areas, though; while the flora around Amber is gorgeous, the wild fauna native to the area is mostly dangerous if not outright deadly. There are a ton of poisonous and constrictor-type snakes in the woods, which our Serpent must find amusing as hell if She has any sense of humor at all,” he warned with half a wry smile.  
  
“She does,” Sarah replied to his surprise, and she roughly told him the dream she had the night before coming to Chaos; it seemed to be an odd thing to be reminded of at the moment.  
  
Maybe that was the point…  
  
The king stood up again and Sarah stood also.  
  
“Do you have any last-minute questions for me before I send you off, Sarah? Any last-minute business to take care of? Anything at all? Once you’re there you’ll have Ghost to assist you should you need it, but my personal power and influence obviously doesn’t reach that far. There’s no point in even giving you money before you get there, it would be altered so badly by the journey. The outfit you are currently wearing has had the daylights magicked out of it to try and make it durable enough to survive that Olympian shadow-leap but you should probably buy at least once more while you’re there just in case; you’ll blend in better.”  
  
There had been something, but what? She was too flustered to remember! But then of course…  
  
“Do you think it would be alright if I just went and said goodbye to Lord Mandor?” she asked tentatively. “I haven’t even really thanked him properly for putting me up and…well… everything,” she nervously laughed.  
  
Merlin just nodded. “I have no objection, but I’ll just look in on him quick – it’s still early, he might not be up yet.”  
  
“Please don’t wake him,” Sarah protested, but a trump was already in the king’s gray, scaly hand.  
  
“Hey, are you decent?” he asked the card after a moment’s concentration. “Somebody wants to say goodbye… alright, thanks, she’ll be down presently.” He severed the connection. “You can’t go where he is right now, but he’s agreed to meet you in a sitting room adjacent to the gallery here.” Another glowing map suddenly appeared in midair, showing the correct passageway – it was connected to the hallway she hadn’t taken that ran off to the right. “I’ll send you in via the spikard; when you’re finished, head back out to the Sculpture Garden and trump me from there.”  
  
“Thank you, your Excellency,” she curtsied primly, “I shouldn’t be long. I just need to do this.”  
  
“Hey, you don’t need to justify it to me, I understand,” he said with what might’ve been an amused smile (it was hard for her to tell on that face.) “See you in a bit.”  
  
Sarah jumped slightly at the sudden flash – and found herself in the aforementioned sitting room. It was still dark save for a roaring fireplace; this ‘house’ had to be naturally cold inside from the number of them she had seen here. _Of course!_ she suddenly thought: no central heating or cooling – none of these rooms were connected in any meaningful physical manner! There was a very thickly-paned round skylight in the ceiling, revealing only a sliver of black remaining, the rest overtaken by that emerald-green hue. Early ‘morning’.  
  
And Mandor was there, human-formed, standing by that natural-colored fire which illumined his eternal, formal black-and-white ensemble, lending unnatural warmth to his pale complexion, his white hair. He turned and saw her upon her appearance in the center of the room. Calm and collected as ever.  
  
“Good morning, Sarah,” he greeted her quietly, as if not to disturb the room itself, “I trust you slept well?”  
  
“Yes, I…” She suddenly faltered, feeling terribly awkward; she had not anticipated being tongue-tied like this in his presence!  
  
He politely ignored her nervous misstep. “Today is a rather important day for you,” he continued lightly, “you must be looking forward to your mission. It’s hardly an everyday occurrence that the King of Chaos orders someone on vacation,” he offered one of his easy, crooked smiles.  
  
Sarah was almost surprised at how much that sight tugged at her heart. It also did not escape her notice that he had not budged from where he was standing – it made him seem less threatening that way – but presently she collected her thoughts.  
  
“I didn’t get the chance to speak to you last night, you were so busy,” she finally said, walking over to him. “I…I just want to tell you before I leave that I know that you didn’t have to do a lot of the things that you’ve done for me – on my behalf – and I wanted to make sure that you know that I do appreciate all the effort you’ve spent on me. I can’t possibly ever repay you for most of it.”  
  
His lip-smile looked just a little too formal to her eye, as was his slightly inclined head-bow.  
  
“Think nothing of it, Sarah; it was a privilege.”  
  
She hesitated, unsure of how to respond to that.  
  
“It is not advisable to keep the king waiting,” he continued in the same tone. “The way you need is just to the right of that large vase,” he indicated toward the left wall.  
  
Sarah turned and started to walk back across the room, but then she stopped. She couldn’t stand it. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that he had turned away, facing the blaze once more.  
  
“I know I probably have absolutely to right at all to ask this,” she said tentatively, eying the delicately patterned rug she was currently standing on, “but I have to know.” She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “How much of it was an act?”  
  
He glanced back at her, a little surprised. “How much of what, Sarah?”  
  
“You know what I’m talking about,” she answered levelly, turning to face him, looking dead into his eyes from across the room.  
  
The silence that followed this remark was as palpable as his cool, momentary scrutiny of her; even in his other forms he had never looked so alien.  
  
But the moment passed and he turned away again.  
  
“Sorry I asked,” she responded a bit tersely, heading for the exit.  
  
“You only caught me unprepared, Sarah,” he suddenly said; she looked at him, surprised. He was still faced away.  
  
“My kind are schooled from an extremely early age on how to appear to the world – what to show, what to keep carefully hidden away. We quickly learn from our elders and our society that any true display of weakness – either rash, headstrong conduct or excessive tenderness and emotion – are not only personal liabilities but occasionally literally fatal, and we are adjusted accordingly. You will never find a Chaosian noble who will completely divulge to anyone fully what they are thinking or feeling at any given moment; it’s just the way of our world, it’s not personal. But I will admit that I have genuinely enjoyed some of the time that I have spent in your company over the past several months.” He looked at her again. “Is that the answer you were searching for, Earth-child?”  
  
It hurt a little bit but Sarah had suspected something like this for a rather long time; she had needed to hear him say it. But that look…  
  
_You are not making this easy_ , she thought as she silently nodded. And then she caught the whisper of a sly smile starting to tug on the right side of his mouth: he wasn’t making this easy on purpose!  
  
“Me, too,” she said quietly with a small smile of her own, fighting to keep from getting misty as she approached the wall.  
  
“Sarah.”  
  
She stopped.  
  
“Enjoy the sunshine.”  
  
“The sun!” she sagged, nearly melting at the thought, closing her eyes at the memory. She had nearly forgotten how fantastic it felt! And the real outdoors! And fresh air! She turned once more, and saw that Mandor was fully facing her now, smiling conspiratorially, and an immense relief rushed over her. “Oh, I’m definitely going to enjoy that!” she suddenly gushed, jogging back to him, feeling the wall between them down once more, “but I don’t know how much time I’m going to have for-”  
  
Mandor still looked amused but he had put up a hand to silence her, shaking his head once with a frowning smirk. “Don’t tell me all the details of your top-secret espionage sting. Just go,” he lightly reprimanded, raising one pale eyebrow.  
  
Perhaps it was only that she had been so preoccupied up until just now on so many levels, but it suddenly hit Sarah that she was probably never going to see him again. Mandor Sawall had been many things to her – mentor, father figure, slave-driver, and…oh fine, puppetmaster-wannabe – but she found that she was going to miss him terribly all the same. Without another word she crossed the short distance between them and caught him in a fierce hug that was far more eloquent and revealing than anything she could’ve said, burying her face in the smooth, soft fabric of his thin dress-jacket. For a second she could feel that all of his muscles were taut-stiff, almost as if he had anticipated an attack instead! But he presently relaxed – she felt his chest shake lightly with silent laughter – and he carefully returned the embrace, his right hand gently stroking her hair as he held her close. After about half-a-minute, she tore away from him just as suddenly and literally ran out of the room so that he wouldn’t see her crying. There was a little telltale moisture on the front of his jacket anyway. Heaving a great sigh, he leaned against the mantle, lightly resting his face in his hand. And laughed.  
  
_She’s still far too naïve for this work_ , he reflected, shaking his head with a jaded smirk that he was careful no one ever saw; if she hadn’t been as well-warded as she had been – and by the king’s spikard, no less – he would’ve not only been able to reap any and all information he cared to at that close of range, but also to plant any number of spells on her person! He stopped smiling as the gravity of the thought unfurled in his mind, and he went to lie down on a nearby couch, closing his eyes; it was still rather early, and especially after that party. Mandor knew that his foster-brother had made great strides on a very personal level of development since the time of his ascension to the throne, but he seriously wondered if Merlin really knew what he was doing here, trusting someone as green and inexperienced in the field as Sarah was with such delicate work right dead-center in enemy territory. Merlin was right about one thing, however: Sarah really was a good kid. It was a rather large part of what had made her relatively easy to use and train, of course, but the fact still remained. He had managed to coax her into developing a very deep, natural attachment to him and it seemed to be still working to their general benefit. He had not anticipated developing a kind of tentative attachment to the girl himself, but the result was a natural enough side-effect of such a psychological experiment performed over any reasonable amount of time. She had often been surprisingly enjoyable company even within the pretense of the situation; at her better moments, she had been genuinely nice to have around.  
  
And that’s when some part of his brain, hitherto far too preoccupied with his personal responsibility for the girl, finally registered the oddity in the fresh respite of her absence: Sarah was nice. In fact, she was too nice – too nice to have an Amberite-dominant original! His eyes flew open at the thought. If her original was a true Amberite/shadow mix, Sarah should’ve had a much larger chip on her shoulder, an inborn sense of superiority and the attitude that went with it! But that could mean-  
  
Mandor forcibly stopped his runaway train-of-thought. It could mean any number of things. It could mean he had just set Merlin on a wild zhind-chase, although he didn’t think so, especially since Suhuy had unequivocally agreed on the point. There was definitely something rather odd with this picture, but there was a surprisingly easy, reliable way to test his theory to see for certain just as soon as he got back to Mandorways. In the meantime, there was no reason to raise any alarm just yet, and certainly not if things were as he was beginning to suspect. Unlike the current king of Chaos, Lord Mandor Sawall did not suffer from divided loyalties. He would not trouble Merlin with any of this information unless it actually became necessary.  
  
There were rather troubling trifles in this case that had never been unriddled, however, like that preliminary attempt on the girl’s life. He had carefully pooled his best reconnaissance resources with Suhuy’s but neither had turned up anything. That was the official report, anyway, but somehow it hadn’t seemed quite right. Lord Suhuy Swayvil had a longstanding reputation of general benevolence within the Courts, refusing to take sides on any divisive point, but he too was secretive and for good reason: the Keeper of the Logrus had to be well-acquainted with the proverbial (and literal) skeletons-in-the-closet of any who would avail themselves of his services in counseling sessions prior to attempting the great trial. Not to even mention the secrets of the Logrus Herself. Mandor had suspected that the old man may very well have divined what or who the true culprit was, but had not seen fit to enlighten him with the information, and in consequence Mandor had privately demanded that Sarah be taught how to defend herself from such an attack. Suhuy delivered admirably on this point and Mandor let the subject drop, but it still irritated him that the answer was within his possible grasp but deliberately placed just beyond his control. He only hoped that the choice was not a personal one. There was also a lingering discontent on his own part - that he could have done a better job in certain aspects of her training - but the matter was out of his hands now. His had been the task of getting the proverbial ball rolling and he seemed to have done that much thoroughly and well. He couldn’t help but worry a little, though; she was being released back into the wild, as it were, far ahead of schedule. Perhaps the Logrus had other plans that could not wait; Merlin had spoken to Suhuy about this also and he had had no objections dire enough to prevent her departure. Who could predict all the twists and turns of the Serpent?  
  
There remained one thing left to do that was within his power: he could see her off properly, ensure with his own eyes that she made it to the capital of Order in one piece – even using the Ghostwheel, a jump that momentous was not without its dangers, but then so was puddle-jumping through two-dozen random shadow-worlds along the way where she could more easily be tailed. Merlin was probably right to attempt it in this fashion.  
  
Coming back to his feet, Mandor stretched his arms for a moment, then headed out of the room himself, cutting through half-a-dozen ways – crisscrossing an expanse of no less than seventeen leagues as if it were nothing – finally coming into an occult workroom of sorts. The place had originally been his father’s and Mandor had never had much reason to disturb it after his old man’s passing. His own magickal facilities at Mandorways were far better appointed and much more organized, but convenience dictated the use of this room every now and again.  
  
Illuminating the small, stone chamber, Mandor performed the necessary minor ritual that would allow him its use: Gramble’s presence had never diminished in here due to the fact that he had actually shaved off a sliver of his own soul and made it guardian of his magic, trusting no familiar. Upon the charm’s completion, the tension from Mandor’s entering the room quickly subsided.  
  
“Greetings, Father,” he said quietly, sitting down at the rough wooden worktable. The place was literally littered with magical apparatuses of every conceivable form and purpose; some of Gramble’s long-standing spells were still in perfect operation. But the item that Mandor required was so mundane and commonplace even out here that he could’ve easily pulled one through from shadow had one not already been in the room. In the left corner of the table was a sizable crystal ball, protected with a deep blue velvet coverlet; Mandor carefully pulled it to the center and unwrapped it. Perfectly clear, the orb was artfully made to appear to be floating lightly upon a mesh of delicate Logrus tentacles – apropos on many levels.  
  
Coalescing his own powers unto himself, Mandor commenced to concentrate far harder than was ever needed for a hellride. What he was attempting was so difficult that few could achieve it at all, let alone do it without passing out from the extreme effort: mentally reaching the full distance from Chaos to Amber unaided. The Amberite-style trumps ameliorated the otherwise perceptible difference in the passage of time surprisingly effectively (well, perhaps not-so-surprisingly; Dworkin Barimen was a son of Chaos no matter how virulently he hated the fact.) Doing this without such a filter was infinitely harder, a rather stark object lesson in everything from swift mortality to how terribly small they all still were in the cold face of the greater powers. There were reasons this was an unpopular pastime, the latter more than the former, actually. Even though he would never admit it to anyone, it had been Jareth who had piqued his curiosity sufficiently to pick the practice up himself, unwieldy as it was. Some part of him held the natural propensity for this kind of activity; it was unacceptable that the original be any less skilled than one of his shadows. There were few instances of useful application but this was a reasonable one. Reasonable to him, anyway – he never relinquished power without a fight, even if it was only a private affair.  
  
It took nearly half-an-hour to establish any contact at all – his head was throbbing but he was subliminating the pain – when he suddenly picked Sarah’s indistinct form out of that ludicrous visual fuzz, and with a tremendous burst of effort forced it to sharpen a little clearer.  
  
_There…_  
  
There she was, a nearly frozen expression of surprised delight over her features; it was impossible to see where in the city she had come through, his range of vision didn’t extend very far because he was concentrating on her in particular. It probably wouldn’t have been a coherently understandable image anyway, but it was likely a back alley, as close to the waterfront as Merlin dared – it had to at least vaguely appear as if she had just arrived on one of the merchant ships fresh in from Shadow. Even this much of a visual was proving difficult to uphold – nearly black-and-white and terribly grainy/blurry – but she was walking in an impossible-looking slow motion. For this extremely long Chaosian moment she was perfectly safe; it would take days local-Chaos-reckoning for her just to walk up to the end of the street, let alone start looking for a room at one of the downtown inns. In truth, time was moving normally for Sarah; the breakdown of relativity between these two points was that severe, causing the illusion. Her eyes were closing with painful slowness – a single blink.  
  
Mandor stopped concentrating and collapsed back into the chair, panting, his own eyes closing as he massaged his aching temples. If anyone in Amber had the power to look in on Chaos similarly, if the effect of the brightly striated sky did not instantaneously strobe them unconscious, the very City would only appear as a blur of furious activity. Slowly recovering himself, Mandor reflected on the cosmic irony: that so much happened so very close to the event point where all action ceased, not unlike how swirling water going down a drain ran much faster the closer it approached the oblivion of that gaping hole. Entropy would devour them all in time, and yet, in spite of any loyalty, he felt he understood why some went to such great lengths to postpone the inevitable. Existence itself was in direct opposition to the Void.  
  
Mandor slowly rose to his feet and shifted up into his ape-form, allowing the metamorphosis to engulf most of his current physical fatigue, and departed the room in search of the king; he had to bid him farewell also. His little foster-brother, the king of all Chaos – the thought never ceased to amuse him in a small, private way. That, too, had not gone according to plan and had still succeeded beyond almost any hope. As Merlin had once observed, albeit not in such language, sometimes simply the ongoing power of inertia would take care of the rest.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
(Theme-sound for Corwin, something that oddly seemed to fit: Aqua, _Aquarius_ , title track. This isn't their usual fare, movie soundtrack-ish, love the subtle horns in the arrangement...)


	11. Away from the Drain

Chapter 11 – Away from the Drain  
  
Light: sweet, bright warmth and the fresh briny smell of the very first saltwater ocean in the universes – Sarah nearly wept upon the moment of her arrival in Amber, the immediate stimuli was so moving; it was simply too beautiful after being shuffled through shadow upon shadow of largely uninhabitable harsh alien worlds for all those long months. She just closed her eyes and lifted her face and arms up to the sun like some growing thing, breathing deep, reveling in the feel of the ‘natural’ thermal radiation again. Even Merlin had had to admit that her long sojourn in Chaos had rendered her skin tone so pale that she would be instantly singled out of the fair-weather crowd here, and he had temporarily darkened her complexion slightly until her own more normal coloring had a chance to redevelop. She suddenly felt a light shiver shoot down her spine that immediately jolted her alert, a very distinctive feeling she had long come to associate with magic work…but the feeling passed just as abruptly as it had hit her, and she quickly dismissed it as the delayed reaction of jumping the complete spectrum of all existence in one go. Looking about her, she appeared to have been trumped into a back service alleyway somewhere. She had to get moving.  
  
“Sarah!” She heard the tiny whisper practically inside her left ear – it was the Ghostwheel. “Are you still handling the transition okay? I brought you out as gently as I could, but there’s still the risk of the fatigue catching up with you.”  
  
“Doing alright, I guess,” she whispered back. “Where are we?”  
  
“We’re currently in the Harbor District; it makes logical sense that you would be coming from this direction if you had just arrived by boat, but you shouldn’t tarry here long – the neighborhoods are pretty rough. Here are your identification papers and the money for your stay.”  
  
Sarah felt a sudden extra weight in the bag she carried.  
  
“The currency is Begman to back up your story. You’ll have to have it exchanged for Amberite drachms, but any of the banks on the Concourse will do it for you – that sort of thing’s done all the time in the city, nothing unusual about that. I’ll run on ahead and check out the inns and signal you as to which one might be best suitable for our purposes here; most of them are taverns with rooms for rent upstairs, but there are two or three that might be safer for a girl traveling alone further up the hill. Other than that errand I will be staying close-by at all times, but you must refrain from speaking to me in public if at all possible – looks far too suspicious. Follow me!”  
  
And a single ray of sunshine shot off down the alley and around the left corner! Sarah jogged up to the edge of what had to be Harbor Road and commenced the long climb up the hill towards the middle of the city, tracing the telltale sundog Ghost had left in his wake. The City of Amber itself was obviously very old but beautiful to her Order-biased way of thinking; if the general structure and layout reminded her of anything it might’ve been pictures of the remaining Shadow Earth construction dating back to the Middle Ages in Europe. The streets in this sector were cobblestoned, often with no sidewalks, and from the organic debris she had to keep stepping around every now and again this was clearly a horse transportation society – easily confirmed as a darkly bearded man on horseback wearing a 17th century riding habit trotted neatly past her in the direction of the harbor; he tipped his three-corner hat to her in passing. Most of the homes and businesses lining the road were built very close together and were only one or two stories high, with none passing three – as many flights as most would care to climb on a regular basis. Harbor Road twisted and turned with smaller adjacent side streets forking away for some time, but presently there was an off-angled crossroads with actual street signs and Sarah, still following the light, turned off Harbor up Smith Street, which was somewhat bigger. The names were not arbitrary; the clanking of beaten metal rang out in the cool of the morning. There were no less than four independent foundries lining this corridor alone and there was definitely some smoke rising from the ironworks farther over, but it was mostly being blown out to the sea - an unexpected large gap in the buildings suddenly revealed Amber’s sea and Sarah had to stop to look. She had never in all her life seen water so blue, currently calm with the sun sparkling down, the distant tiny shape of a lone brig steadily sailing its way toward the horizon and the unknown. A large flock of white seabirds wheeled in the open sky out there, so distant and far down that only the faint echo of their cries could be heard from up here, and a bit further out, in the sky…but it couldn’t possibly be…  
  
“This your first time to our city, miss?”  
  
Sarah spun around to see who had addressed her – it was one of the smithies across the street in his workyard, cobbling a set of horseshoes. He was dark-haired with a slight beard – it would’ve been difficult to guess his age – and he was fairly covered in soot from the forge, as much a part of his uniform as his protective leather apron and thick work gloves.  
  
“Yes,” she managed the word well enough, carefully wandering over; the simple affirmative was completely different in Amberite Thari.  
  
“You see that dragon out there?” he gestured with his hammer toward the gap in the buildings and Sarah nodded, wide-eyed – she had been right! “That blasted thing’s been circling east and south of the harbor for weeks now, won’t move on, like she’s hunting something,” he continued; his accent sounded distinctively odd to Sarah’s ears and she did her best to remember it. “Course, them up at the Castle say she’s harmless enough to us, but I’ve never seen one stick around for so long doing nothing and I’ve seen plenty over the years from my small vantage point here. You take my advice and avoid the beach. They never come up this far away from their normal food sources, though; we should still be safe in the City.”  
  
“Thank you,” Sarah also managed casually – the basic exchanges and colloquialisms were where most of the linguistic differences lay. “I’m just on my way up to the Concourse right now.”  
  
He nodded approval. “Should you need anything metal mended – even something as small as a belt buckle – you remember who steered you right,” he smiled, gesturing upwards to the iron-lettered sign above the yard: it read ‘Fabrion Iden and Sons Metallurgy’ and beneath, ‘Specializing in Horseshoes, Chainmail Armor and Assorted Small Fineries.’  
  
“I will,” she smiled in return, starting off again. “Good day!”  
  
“Safe journey!”  
  
And he resumed his work; she could hear him hammering again as she paced away. More people were passing her in the street in various modes of mostly simple medieval dress, but many were headed in the same general direction as she was, pushing wooden handcarts of small wares and fresh produce and flowers, all headed to market it would seem; she was casually greeted often. Perhaps strangers weren’t all that strange here; she could hear snippets of not only Thari in at least a half-dozen lesser dialects but even one or two languages she couldn’t understand at all. In a weird way it made her unexpectedly homesick for New York City. She had known that Amber was a very important commercial hub for the nearby shadows, but she hadn’t really given much though as to what in consequence the place was really like. At least some of the locals seemed friendly enough – in the more decent parts of town, anyway.  
  
_Yep – right down to neighbors yelling at each other out the windows_ , she thought with a smirk, glancing up at a second-story window and a woman with a squalling baby on her hip, who was shouting at a shopkeeper across the street for making so much racket at this time of the morning: he was a clockmaker. Many people in this sector lived above their shops, rows upon rows of them, mostly basic furniture and home goods where she currently was but more and more daily and specialty items graced the display windows the closer she got to the center of the city. Sarah turned left onto West Vine, then took a right on Weaver Street – the going was all uphill, and while her shoes were obviously sturdy enough to handle it, she wished the soles were a little better padded; the cobblestones made for tough hiking if one was unused to it. Weaver was every bit as colorful as the name would suggest, with bolts of fabric of every description and use and a few simple finished items crowding the shop windows; she could hear well-seasoned haggling going on just inside. The foot traffic had to temporarily part to make way for a closed carriage – it was a splendid affair, black with gold trim and terribly ornate, with the curtains drawn closed. A black team of horses and an equally resplendent coachman dressed in 18th century style completed the fairytale-esque transport; they were headed east toward the upper-class residences. In spite of the high ostentation, barely anyone apart from her paid it the slightest attention; the real business of life for most of the citizenry was going on right here.  
  
Or, rather, on the Concourse – this had to be it; the winding, curving streets had been gradually widening out for some time now, but Weaver suddenly emptied into a long straight stretch that was easily as wide across as a six-lane Shadow Earth highway and bustling with traffic both pedestrian and equestrian, the broad sidewalks teeming with vendors and stalls. The Concourse was at least four modern city blocks long, possibly longer; the end nearer to Sarah terminated in an arched open gate of sorts with an armored guard standing just inside – he wore a shirt of scale maille over a simple uniform and a short sword, the Unicorn on the Field of Green emblazoned upon his large, rectangular ornamental shield, which he was leaning against at present. Not far from the gate was a full-size marble statue of a lightly bearded man in fine, old-fashioned navy regalia, posed with his arms clasped behind his back, ostensibly gazing out to sea through the arch. She carefully wandered closer to read the engraved inscription below it on the columned pedestal: ‘Prince Caine, Son of Oberon the Mighty, Son of the Unicorn – Savior of Amber’. The far end of the great street, on the other hand, culminated in a lengthy guarded causeway that led up, up, up…  
  
… to the Palace! Castle Amber was built on and directly into the side of Mount Kolvir, the first upthrust of Order; the Pattern itself was supposed to be buried within its depths. The mountain range continued north of the coastline and the forest. Only part of the front of the fortress and two of its five towers were visible from that steep approach, the pale-colored stone shining brightly in the full morning sun. The castle had been constructed to withstand physical and – amazingly – magical attack: atop each of those towers, hidden from view at ground-level, were immense globes that were sympathetically attuned to the Missing Left Eye of the Serpent (what Amberites called the Jewel of Judgment), a large ruby in possession of the king that not only carried within its faceted depths the model of the Pattern, but allowed the wearer to literally wield it, as close as any here came to directly using their chosen power – infinitely harder on body and soul than working directly with the Logrus (as risky as that was.) The city had actually been directly attacked on a number of occasions in the past – even besieged by two irate Princes during the recent interregnum – but the castle had withstood all invaders; even in the Courts this was spoken of in awed whispers. Sarah had heard from Lord Suhuy accounts of sheets of real lightning falling on those in battle here, not from that hallowed blue above but directly from the castle and the king! And that was only the beginning of what could be done with the Jewel.  
  
In spite of this considerable show of power, under more normal circumstances there was hardly any need for rule by force. The general populace was patriotic to a fault, well understanding that peace and prosperity had to be maintained here at the Center of Order, or disorder and anarchy would flourish in countless worlds that emanated thereof, including their immediate neighbors, shadows that skirted Amber so closely that trade routes by sea had been established by the Princes time out of memory – the Golden Circle – hence the ruse of Sarah traveling here from the closest of these. Begma (even similar in name) had been on open good terms with Amber for eons and their merchant ships anchored in Amber’s harbor almost daily; if she had come in truth in one of them, only the captain of that particular vessel and the Begman Embassy would be immediately aware of the fact. Which meant that, in a seething crowd such as this, Sarah was pretty much at liberty so long as she didn’t do anything too crazy, rash, or stupid. Chances were that her Fixed Logrus-based powers wouldn’t even work here; the close proximity of the true Pattern would mostly cancel them out. No danger of a spell accidentally going off like there would’ve been with a true Logrus initiate. Maybe Merlin really did know what he was doing sending her here.  
  
A woman of ‘stature’ sauntered by right in front of her, walking a long, thin, green-and-gold dragon the size of a greyhound on a gold chain leash! The creature ‘sniffed’ Sarah with its long forked tongue as it fluidly ambled by. The lady herself looked as if she had just walked straight out of one of the girl’s storybooks, wearing a lush lilac satin gown with long flowing sleeves, draped hennin headdress and all, and Sarah had to really work not to gawk…then unexpectedly found herself thinking of her old mutt back at home and smirked. She would never again be able to hear the name Merlin without thinking of all of this. Could her sheepdog tell that Shara was different, she suddenly wondered? Hopefully the girl was getting along with him all right and giving him lots of love and attention in any event.  
  
Sarah snapped to attention at the sudden report of a hunting horn – the sound instantly made her blood go cold by instinct: she knew that horn somehow! But she was not given the luxury of time for further thought on the matter as she and all the other traffic in the middle of the Concourse were hurriedly herded to the sides of the road by more armored soldiers she had not spotted before, followed by the sound of many horses galloping closer. Without warning, a full cavalcade burst onto the Concourse from one of the larger side streets from the west, charging by them at full-speed up toward the causeway and the castle! All the men were armored similarly in long scalemail coats, but these also wore brass helmets that looked almost ancient Greek or Trojan to Sarah, complete with the protective nose guards. The lead figure wore no headgear at all, however, and his scale-armor had a decorative white glaze baked onto it. He rode by so quickly Sarah saw him for only an instant, but that one glimpse was sobering: he was handsome as a wolf, but looked far deadlier than any beast of prey, his pale blue eyes much colder than Mandor’s even when he had been angry, his long dark hair flying behind him like a flag. And that was no ordinary horse he was riding, either: the beast was huge, higher than a Clydesdale, with a steel-gray mane and dead-looking black eyes – it ran more like a machine than any animal! In another second the entire company was gone, swallowed up into the castle grounds, and people were allowed back on the street again, but Sarah just stood there transfixed, staring at where they had been, her heart still pounding.  
  
“It has often been remarked that outsiders never forget the first time they see a prince or princess of Amber in the flesh,” a deep male voice resounded from her immediate right – one of the guards had been standing beside her and she hadn’t even noticed him! He was equipped as the rest, but he had just removed his helmet, revealing his salt-and-pepper shoulder-length hair; he was obviously in the process of growing old in the service of his country. Whether he had been there before or if he had just somehow come with the riders she couldn’t honestly remember. “This is your first time to our city?”  
  
Sarah nodded, not trusting what her voice would sound like at the moment, doing her best to remain calm. The man looked friendly enough, but having to deal even this casually with the ‘law’ here - and so soon to her arrival - definitely set her nerves on edge.  
  
“Rest assured, for as exciting as our capital may be at times, the danger of being trampled on the Concourse is a very rare occurrence! Something must be brewing in the Arden Forest to bring his Highness Prince Julian thus so swiftly and with so many. We may hope to the Unicorn that it only portends a new dangerous kind of shadow-beast with unusually thick hide or scales, and they have merely come for munitions – it would not be the first time, but only the second. Where do you hail from?”  
  
“Begma,” Sarah answered him, careful to sound calmer than she felt.  
  
“No wonder you look shaken!” the man suddenly remarked with a little concern. “Things like this seldom happen in such a quiet rural land! You have only just arrived, then?”  
  
“Yes,” Sarah replied, starting to feel a little more nervous again, wishing there was some way of evading this well-meaning keeper-of-the-peace, seeing none.  
  
He pressed on. “And where is the rest of your company? Have your parents journeyed here also or are you come here visiting relatives?”  
  
“Neither – this is a short pleasure-trip for me sponsored by my father; I just turned sixteen,” she effortlessly lied. Actually, come to think of it, that last statement might have been true; she had no idea of how to calculate her real physical age anymore with even the small amount of shadow-traveling that she had done!  
  
The guard smiled broadly, nodding, and Sarah nearly collapsed in relief that he seemed willing to buy it. “Then you must be sure and check in with your embassy – which is just there up the street,” he pointed a relatively short distance up the Concourse; she could make out the flags, “and you can exchange your currency there,” he pointed out one of the banks just a little further on on the opposite side of the street. “How long are you to be with us?”  
  
“Only a few days.”  
  
“Well, if for any reason you find yourself in trouble or even if you just have a question, feel free to approach any of us – it’s what we’re paid for. You’ll find us stationed every other block along the Concourse and every three or four blocks elsewhere in the city. As long as you avoid the waterfront neighborhoods, even traveling as you are alone, you should be safe enough.”  
  
_Every other block?!_ Sarah thought in dismay, but she outwardly thanked the guard nicely and without further ado melted into the crowd, heading for the bank instead of the embassy. While she had assumed that Amber’s active army certainly guarded her borders by land and by sea, Sarah had had no idea that the city itself was so heavily patrolled! If she didn’t know any better, the country might superficially resemble a police-state in this manner, but she had to remind herself that keeping peace and order here was paramount to everything, literally. The other people she saw in the street appeared to take the obvious military presence in the stride, if they gave them any notice at all. Some were casually passing the time of day with them. At least this section of Amber seemed low-crime; those patrols had to be boring. It still didn’t sit well with her that any activity that might even nominally be considered unusual was bound to be spotted instantaneously by at least one of them. She would have to be outrageously careful here.  
  
Once Sarah felt certain that she was no longer being watched, she slipped into the bank. Her heart was in her throat as the teller asked for her identification and she had to hand over her forged papers as well as her fake currency; they looked real enough to the staff that no one so much as batted an eye, however, and soon her coin purse was filled with solid-silver drachms (the gold standard ‘stater’ would have looked too odd for her supposed station-in-life, even though it would have meant carrying less of them – she had been warned of this.) Making change here would also be somewhat more complex than the straightforward decimal system she had been accustomed to in Shadow Earth America, so only dealing with half the currency cut down on that difficulty as well. She was just stepping out of the door when she heard a faint, familiar whisper in her right ear: Ghost was back.  
  
“I thought you were likely to come here! I believe I have located an inn just a block east of Temple Street that we can use for our base of operations. This way!”  
  
And once again Sarah found herself chasing after her own private sunbeam. At least the streets weren’t so severely uphill any longer but this was still one heck of a climb! Cutting a jog across Vine Street (the central one; it was broken into three unevenly-placed sections) Sarah turned off right and made her way down nearly a third of the riot of color and close activity that was Temple Street in late morning and sunny weather, past the novelty shops and theaters with their brightly painted signs, refined art galleries and circus-like street buskers, hanging another left onto East Vine. She was definitely starting to flag a bit on the approach to the three-story inn; just beyond it was the beginning of the ritzy, residential part of town with literally palatial estates winding back up into the hills and the eastern borders of the forest. She had just hiked almost all of the way across town in one go and was ready to get off her feet for a while, to say nothing of downing at least a couple glasses of water!  
  
“The third-floor rooms are cheaper,” Ghost suddenly whispered, “and the guests the proprietress has currently are on the first and second floors only. Ask for a top floor room, facing the city,” he rapidly instructed as she trudged past rose bushes and large box planters lining the spacious approach, through the unlocked door beneath the sign that proclaimed the name of the establishment –The Red Rose – replete with the aforementioned emblem painted true-to-life on either side of the beautifully flowing Thari script. If the building looked antique and possibly more than a little weatherworn on the outside, the inside of the lobby was bright and inviting with an eclectic assortment of flamboyantly bohemian décor from several Shadow Earth centuries and practically every country imaginable, all thrown together in a deliberate, artistic mishmash. And behind a short bar counter sat a middle-aged woman who was dressed rather like a stereotypical eastern-European gypsy: brightly-colored dress, ear and arm bangles, her chestnut hair mostly tied back in a headscarf. She was knitting something but quickly set it aside on a low shelf behind the bar upon seeing Sarah enter the room.  
  
“Good day, miss!” she hailed her, wiping her hands clean on a wet towel, standing up. “And what’ll be your pleasure?”  
  
“Water,” Sarah panted, falling into one of the dark-polished, armed barstools, “and one of your third-floor rooms.”  
  
“Gracious! Did you just run all the way here from the harbor?” the woman asked amazedly, pouring out a tall glass of water from a stoneware jug and sliding it across to Sarah, who was only too grateful to have her own ‘story’ already made up, and she simply nodded, gulping the cool liquid down her parched throat.  
  
“Wanted to make sure I got a good place to stay first,” she took the liberty of adding to the woman’s tale, gesturing for another.  
  
The proprietress just laughed, filling her glass again. “We’re not quite that busy, miss, although the beginning of the tourist season is certainly upon us. This is your first visit to Amber?”  
  
Sarah nodded again, draining only half of it this time  
  
“And are there more of your company following at a more measured pace?”  
  
“It’s just me.”  
  
The woman’s eyebrows went up briefly, but she smiled readily enough, bringing out the registry log, opening it and getting a quill pen and a bottle of ink. “If you would just fill this out for me, please,” she turned the thick tome towards Sarah, placing the writing implements in front of her. “How long do you plan on staying?”  
  
“Let’s say seven days to start,” Sarah carefully replied, dipping the quill. She had been taught to use calligraphy pens at Mandorways – it was easier to write Thari script with a variable nub – but this was comparatively a little more difficult. She managed it well enough, though, scribbling down her alias.  
  
“And where are you visiting us from? Where’s home?”  
  
“Begma,” Sarah answered without missing a beat, quickly running over the spiel in her mind, still entering her fake legal information, “by the coast. My father’s a shipwright.”  
  
“Pretty country,” the woman nodded assent, “but even the capital city there has far less crazy hustle-and-bustle than this, am I right?”  
  
Sarah had initially wondered at the choice of such a close shadow for her alleged home at first, but she was beginning to perceive that being from a far less urban world would give her sufficient cultural excuse for any naïveté or social faux pas she might accidentally commit here whilst gaining her bearings. She finished the form with her false signature and turned it back to the proprietress, who had added the price of her stay to the sheet while Sarah had been writing. This inn alone was going to cost her nearly half of the money Ghost had given her; hopefully the location would be worth it. She paid the full amount upfront; it had included daily breakfast and a small prepaid bar tab worth just a few drinks (standard practice, apparently, even for someone her age – sixteen years old was a legal adult here – and she didn’t want to look weird by turning it down even though she had no plan to use it.) Once this was done, she was shown up to the rooms.  
  
“Which view would you prefer? The estates, the ocean, or the city, as if I had to ask?” the proprietress smiled knowingly over her shoulder as they mounted the second flight of rough, wooden stairs.  
  
“The city,” Sarah agreed. “One can see Temple Street from here?”  
  
“Right you are, miss,” the proprietress walked down the branching corridor to the left once they gained the landing and unlocked a certain door, showing Sarah inside.  
  
The bedroom was small but clean and well-appointed, with a twin-sized bed shoved up against the near wall and a dresser beside it; a small, plain, round wooden table and a rose-tinted velvet-cushioned chair were on the opposite side of the room. Large-paned windows set in the wall opposite the door revealed the world below; they currently stood fully opened outwards, airing the room. The lady’s taste was evident up here as well: bouquets of dried roses festooned the ceiling, perfuming the small space, and while the crazy-quilt on the bed looked hand-stitched from wild scraps of this and that, the dresser could’ve been Polynesian, the oil lamp upon the table Victorian floral!  
  
“The water closets and washrooms are shared per floor, but as you are currently my only top floor guest you have it all to yourself for the time being, but be aware that this can change; it’s just at the end of the hall,” the proprietress went back out and walked down, showing her. Sarah hadn’t given this mundanity much thought, considering that even ancient Chaosian strongholds appeared to have some form of standard plumbing, but really she was probably lucky to be somewhere here that had it, albeit limitedly. The facilities were definitely old-fashioned but serviceable. “Is all to your satisfaction?”  
  
“Oh – yes.”  
  
The proprietress produced a large key ring from a side pocket in her bright gauzy skirt and extracted an old skeleton key from the set, handing it to Sarah. “While this inn observes no curfew, I do expect my guests to be quiet at odd hours. Other than that, you’re fairly free to do as you wish here – within reason, of course,” she smiled. “I can well guess this place cost you dear, but you’ll find the location and amenities worth the price,” she assured as they headed back to her room. “If the crowd out there on Temple gets too overwhelming in the evenings, you just let me know and we’ll scrape together supper for you as well,” she added confidentially, sounding rather like an indulgent aunt; Sarah nodded demurely with a small smile – she had been right in her reasoning. “If you need anything at all, you’ll almost always find me right downstairs; I don’t leave the premises much anymore. We also host informal artistic soirees most evenings in rotation in the main room downstairs. Are you creatively inclined yourself, miss?”  
  
“Well, I am taking acting classes-” Sarah just barely managed to stop herself in mid-sentence – she had nearly finished, ‘at my high school’!  
  
“Oh, wonderful! Well, improv night is three nights from today this turning: would you consider joining us?”  
  
“Perhaps, if I’m not busy elsewhere,” Sarah smiled.  
  
“Of course. This is your first big outing; you don’t want to spend it all cooped up at the inn,” the woman nodded understandingly. “Well, I’ll just leave you to get settled in, then. Hope you enjoy your stay,” she added, closing the door on her way out.  
  
Sarah listened as the woman’s footsteps retreated down those unvarnished wooden steps; when she couldn’t hear her anymore, she collapsed onto the small mattress with a huge sigh of relief – she was in!  
  
“All clear?” she whispered, assuming Ghost was somewhere nearby.  
  
“Close the windows and we can speak quietly,” came his tiny whisper in her left ear. Sarah got back up and crossed the small room, pulling back in the windows and latching them fast, taking in the view as she did so. The inn was positioned uphill somewhat from Temple Street, and while some of the buildings along that eclectic artsy boulevard were tall enough to obscure her view, she could actually see quite a lot of the strip from up here; it was a surprisingly good vantage point.  
  
“And draw the drapes as well – we’re not the only ones with a rooftop view,” Ghost cautioned a little more loudly; she did so and suddenly the oil lamp burst into light, only it was technically still unlit. It was her companion.  
  
“I’ll have you know this place wasn’t cheap,” Sarah said, walking over to the table, sitting down, “we’ve already blown almost half our budget on room and board alone!”  
  
“Not so loud!” Ghost hissed in caution. “These old walls are pretty thin. I know, but it wouldn’t have been safe to put you up by yourself at a lot of the other inns; some of them looked pretty seedy, and the lofts to let above Temple wouldn’t have been much better and far more haphazardly kept up. Lock the door, too,” he added. “I doubt we’ll be walked in on, but better safe than sorry. Bring your bag over here while you’re up.”  
  
“Who made you head of this operation?” Sarah asked him half-teasingly, doing what she was bade.  
  
“Dad,” Ghost answered rather matter-of-factly. “He ordered me to take care of you in Amber, to protect you. I am expressly acting on his wishes.”  
  
“I’m not a little kid,” Sarah rolled her eyes, sitting down at the table, “I don’t have to be constantly supervised.”  
  
“I’m aware of that, but I hate to disobey him. I’ll try to be less pushy – my necessary mode of operation here wasn’t very well defined.”  
  
“Alright,” Sarah sighed, “didn’t mean to be on you, either. What did you need with the bag?”  
  
“If you would kindly take out your purse and empty its contents onto the table, please – here put this beneath so it doesn’t make so much noise,” he asked far more politely, just before a wad of thick, burgundy velvet appeared in front of her on the table.  
  
Sarah folded it in half and spread it out flat, then carefully laid out her remaining coins upon it. She hadn’t really had the leisure to look at the currency at all before, but she did so now, having just received a little small change downstairs, so most of the denominations were now present: a few remaining dekadrachm, one tetradrachm, and some mixed obols (odd fractional coins of lesser value.) All were cast in solid silver but in varying sizes and thicknesses, the smallest being smaller and thinner than an American dime. They were struck uniformly with a dancing unicorn along with the denominations on the reverses, but the face-sides varied significantly. Most were emblazoned with a fairly young-looking, clean-shaven male profile along with the Thari markings for ‘Random I, King of the One True World,’ but others that looked more worn sported a very different visage: a full-bearded man in late middle-age who looked rather more like classical busts of Zeus – Oberon, Son of the Unicorn, the first king. And on one lonely hemiobol, almost too small for her to make out clearly without a magnifying glass, was yet another male profile of indeterminate age with a well-kept mustache and beard. He almost looked similar to Corwin in certain aspects, but he was definitely more handsome; she could just barely make out his name – Eric. The rest was far too minute and rubbed to be legible.  
  
“That one’s a portrait of my granddad’s older brother, my Uncle Eric,” Ghost clarified. “I never got to actually meet him; he died some years before I was made, defending this very city against the first shadow hordes out of Chaos early on in the War. He was a pretender to the throne – genuinely crazy, power-hungry, and cruel, by the accounts – but he met his end nobly enough. Nobody speaks of him anymore and Uncle Random’s been having these coins withdrawn from circulation for pretty obvious reasons. You might pocket that one – it should be worth some real money someday,” he suggested, and Sarah put it aside of the rest with a smirk. “Monetarily-speaking, though, you’re not as bad off as you might think; real shopping can get expensive in the City, but a lot of the street vendors and sidewalk cafes are actually pretty cheap, and I would advise you to eat at them – you’ll be asked less questions dining there, too. One purchase you will need to make today is a good warm wrap of your own choosing; even though it’s the beginning of summer here, it can still get fairly chilly at night since we’re just up from the coast, and such an article will be imperative if you’re going to be out and about after sunset. Once you’ve had a chance to get around some today, you’ll have a much better feel for how much you need to set aside for basic expenses and then you’ll be free to spend the rest at your discretion. Most of the galleries are either free or near-free – good artists get private patronage here – but the theaters cost a little more for the good seats, so consider yourself forewarned. Also, don’t ever carry more than three dekadrachm on your person at any given time now that you have a place to stash the rest; in spite of the heavy ‘homeland protective force’ presence in the City, there are still a handful of very skilled pickpockets out there. And what you do have, don’t carry obviously; secret it in your clothing.”  
  
Sarah considered the prospect for only a moment before coming to the universally secure hiding spot for a woman – and put two dekadrachm down the front of her dress, wedged between her chest and the inner lining – then folded one more behind the seam in the waist, depositing the rest quietly back into the purse. She got up and went to hide it behind the mattress, lifting it back…only to discover a few foreign coins someone else had left behind there!  
  
“Ghost, look at these!” she motioned him over; the light darted across the room to hover just above her right shoulder. They bore the three-quarter-angle visage of a proud, crowned beauty, but the engraved script was too worn to read.  
  
“That’s old currency from Kashfa, much farther out in the Golden Circle, back when Lady Jazra was still in power there – no one you need to worry about,” he added just a little too hastily. It may well have been someone that Ghost had been worried by in the past, but Sarah had no doubt that he actually meant what he’d just said. “They’re not worth much. You can spend them if you want to, I guess; their owner is probably worlds away from here by now and not likely to return any time soon. But it’s your call.”  
  
Sarah added them to her own stash, then put that where they had been: it was so well-buried that the first set hadn’t even been noticed by whoever had made up the room. Or it meant that the sheets hadn’t been changed since then – ew. She would double-check before sleeping in there tonight.  
  
“Beyond that – just have fun. Be aware of your surroundings. I’d say ‘be on the lookout’, but I think that’s mostly my job: I’ll be actively scanning girls of approximately the correct age everywhere you go. If she’s here, this should be easy.”  
  
Sarah’s eyes widened. “What?!”  
  
“What’s amiss?” Ghost’s kindly, Merlin-esque voice suddenly sounded terribly concerned. “Was it something I said?”  
  
Sarah forced herself to simmer back down. Merlin. This had been the plan all along. She gave a humorless laugh, sitting down on the side of the bed.  
  
“The only reason I’m here is because you need me as a genetic template. The king doesn’t really need me for anything,” she chewed out a little bitterly.  
  
“Ah,” Ghost observed quietly. “Perhaps I wasn’t supposed to tell you that. I thought we were all on the same page. I didn’t mean to upset you.”  
  
“It’s not your fault,” Sarah sighed, reassuring him, looking down at her lap. “I just thought for some stupid reason that he’d be different from the others, that’s all.”  
  
“My dad doesn’t use people callously or maliciously, if that’s what you’re implying,” Ghost calmly defended him, “although I may not be able to say as much for my other aunts and uncles on either side. Maybe there’s more to this operation than he’s told me; it wouldn’t be the first time. And even if you were only here for such a simple reason, look around at where you are! Billions of your species have lived their entire lives without ever knowing that this place even exists! I myself owe part of my genesis to the Pattern of Amber – portions of it are literally inscribed on my circuits in various points. Up until just this year everything you have learned - everything you have known of life – has had its origin in this very City. Wander, learn, enjoy! Just being here is a blessing not afforded to many shadow-beings - well, not comparatively-speaking, anyway.”  
  
Sarah gave a light scoff, raising her eyes a moment…then conceded, nodding: he was probably right. Of course he was right – he was the smartest machine in the known universes! _Are there shadows of you out there?_ she briefly wondered, idly studying the soft, jewel-toned quilt, tracing the embroidery.  
  
“Cheer up; lunch is on me,” Ghost said hopefully - and a few extra drachms dropped to the mattress beside her. “There’s a good mid-price restaurant called The Pit just a couple blocks downhill from here.” He winked out and the drapes looped back of their own accord. “Amber’s waiting. Come on.”  
  
Then there was silence.  
  
Sarah sat gazing out of her window for a moment. That really and truly was the most beautiful blue sky in existence out there, not a single cloud at the moment, just a perfect, brilliant-crystalline turquoise. The golden liquid sunlight would fill this room in the afternoon and evening with its supra-earthly radiance and warmth.  
  
_Oh, stop being such a crybaby_ , she inwardly admonished herself, _you couldn’t really expect him to leave something this important entirely up to you._ Actually, the more she thought about it, the more this entire jaunt just looked like an attempt to boost her morale toward Chaos before sending her home – pretty logical, especially for a guy in Merlin’s position. So, he was basically covering his bases; fair enough. Unless…  
  
_Oh screw it, I’m gonna just go have some fun_ , she thought resignedly, getting back up, fetching her leather carryall from the table, locking up the room and heading to the washroom before going back out. Whatever was going down here, chances were good that she had a few days ahead to get her ducks in order. And then a potentially embarrassing conundrum suddenly hit her.  
  
“Ghost?” she whispered once the door was closed, “what day is it today here?”  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
It was a sunny sixteenth day of the ngan of Posya in the approximate anno of 2394.6 d’L // (nowhere else – not even in the Courts – is the general populace so painfully aware of the fluctuations in time due to the flowing pull of Shadow that dates are only ever approximated) that Sarah Williams of Shadow Earth ventured forth into the original ‘City-by-the-Bay’, Amber, in all her glory and crazy activity, even busier than usual at the beginning of the good weather season. Sarah kept following Ghost’s subtle directional hints, finally getting to walk downhill for a bit, doing her best to remember the order of the storefronts that they were passing. ‘The great pageant of life’: these words seemed to actually mean something here, but perhaps it was only the cultural shock of being in a place where even the average person’s work was not only their livelihood but also their individual source of pride and passion. If there was drudgery to be found, it was not on display. Shopkeepers openly hawked their wares in the streets, sometimes to the extent of jokingly one-upping their competitors to their faces! Quick-portrait artists plied their trade along the sidewalk and jugglers and musicians performed for tips. There was a one-man monologue in progress in front of the Crown Theater – a living advertisement for the night’s drama – that had attracted a small crowd, some of whom appeared to be protesters from a smaller theater company farther back up the street!  
  
To say nothing of how the general public was dressed: Temple was a walking, breathing costume shop! Clothing from nearly every Earth era except the 20th century, alongside styles of many other shadows, were all on constant parade as if it were perfectly commonplace to look like one had just popped out of a time machine from an alternate universe! The level of stimuli was nearly overwhelming, but presently Ghost headed west onto an unmarked side street that was significantly less busy, just at the crest of a fairly steep hill; starting downward, there was a large decorative fountain smack-dab in the middle of a…traffic circle? Was that what those were called here? It featured a large copper dragon, patina-green with age, that was…yes, ‘peeing’ in the fountain! Sarah stopped in her tracks as the far-reaching implications hit her and it was all she could do not to laugh aloud: some Amberite artist with a puerile sense of humor had unwittingly touched off a long series of varyingly puerile sculptures throughout probably thousands of shadows, including Jareth’s!  
  
_Jareth…_  
  
Ghost was signaling the correct building across the turning to the left and Sarah rued that she didn’t have an American quarter to add to the extensive collection of exotic coins at the bottom of the pool - heck of a place to make a wish!  
  
The dining was al fresco with a light, refreshing breeze coming up from the sea-cliffs, the local cuisine rustic yet excellently prepared, but now with the initial trauma of getting here off her back, Sarah couldn’t stop thinking of Ghost-Corwin. She hated to entertain the possibility, but there was a rather good chance that his cynical outlook on his own predicament was well-founded. How could she even get back there now? Had she blown her one shot at liberating him because she had been reading the wrong books at Mandorways? And what about Jareth? He may have been an egotistical prick, but he wouldn’t have told her all that stuff if there wasn’t any practical way of pulling it off, would he? It didn’t make sense. There had to be an answer – the Goblin King would’ve attempted it himself ages ago, but his hands were pretty effectively tied. She nearly flushed in humiliation at the memory of just how well he’d played her initially, how he’d managed to intimidate her in a place where he was virtually powerless. Whatever happened or didn’t happen here, she wasn’t ever going to let Jareth get the better of her again: ‘fool me thrice and I’m just a fool.’ The trumps were obviously going to be of no help in this case, not if she’d be trumping straight into a trap of some kind in that dungeon. Chaosian shadow-pulling was probably out, too; the trap would work in reverse and that would be that. Even with her more physical brand of Logrus power, she seriously doubted she could bust her way in; such a trap would have to be able to absorb or reflect any normal attack. It would take someone far stronger, far faster, than she could ever hope to be to even have a chance at saving that version of Corwin.  
  
Of course, there was one rather obvious candidate at hand who could easily fit those requirements - the Ghostwheel – but she was really uneasy about confiding this in him and for good reason; he seemed to not always understand what was to be kept confidential from who and why, to say nothing of the fact that he probably reported all of his actions back to his ‘dad’. It was actually pretty thoughtful of Merlin to have programmed such a capacity for perceiving pseudo-nuclear relationships into his computer, she reflected; it gave Ghost a sense of belonging, a surrogate family if you will, where otherwise his existence could’ve proven unbearably lonely – the only being of his kind with absolutely no one or nothing to relate to. It felt almost Biblically unethical to potentially compromise his relationship with his literal creator in any way, shape, or form.  
  
It didn’t keep him from noticing that she was troubled by something, though; on the way back up to Temple, he led her aside into a deserted alley and confronted her.  
  
“Something’s been eating at you for an hour,” he whispered in her ear. “I thought you missed being around other humans. Was it the young man who hit on you as he rode by? Granted, he was a bit forward and rude, but surely the incident shouldn’t have triggered this level of brooding. I know brooding; my dad’s a world-class brooder. I’m trying to pick it up myself.”  
  
Sarah had to stifle a laugh, moving toward the wall so she wouldn’t be as visible to any potential passersby. “Would you be terribly offended if I refused to tell you about this? I promise it has absolutely nothing to do with our mission here; it’s a completely different matter, but I don’t want you getting into trouble on my account. If I haven’t worked it out by the time you need to take me back home, I might tell you then. Is that alright?”  
  
Ghost was silent for a couple beats before responding. “It doesn’t involved anyone I care about, does it?”  
  
The query sounded innocent enough, but it almost scared her to death, thinking of the immense, inhuman power that lay behind it. “I don’t think so,” she finally replied, “at least I think it’s highly unlikely.” She didn’t feel comfortable saying anything more; it would lead to too many more questions that she couldn’t answer. Another few tense seconds passed.  
  
“All right, Sarah,” he pronounced in his more usual tone-of-voice, “I think I trust you. It’s sweet of you to be concerned for my own welfare, but be aware that I’ve faced off against both the Pattern and the Logrus and come out on top both times on my dad’s behalf,” he boasted cheerily. “I seriously doubt there are few conundrums I could not directly solve for you, if not aide you with,” he added confidently, his faint light leading back out into the street, turning onto Temple.  
  
_And there it is_ , Sarah thought a bit ruefully: Ghost would put himself through anything, risk anything – even his own being – for the man who’d made him. If he thought for even a second that she was withholding information that Merlin would want to know, she would be dealing with a caliber of trouble that was unique in the known universes, who had seemingly unlimited resources… although it would probably only amount to instantaneously finding herself in the king’s presence again and forced to give a full confession on the spot. But that would be enough. Ghost-Corwin had briefly intimated that a woman in the Ways of Sawall was directly responsible for his imprisonment; who else could it be but Lady Dara, Merlin’s mother? No – a thousand times no. This was a problem she had to avoid dragging the House of Sawall into on pain of death – most likely her own for making the scandal of detaining a Prince of Amber in peacetime even nominally ‘public.’  
  
Ghost abruptly interrupted her consternated reverie. “Do you think you can find your way back to the inn from here?” his familiar whisper sounded in her right ear. “Blink once for yes, twice for no.”  
  
The directive was so stereotypically ludicrous Sarah had to bite back a laugh… and made a very long, single blink.  
  
“Good. I’ll work in close vicinity, but I won’t talk to you again until we’re back at base.”  
  
And, for all practical purposes, Sarah was left to her own devices on one of the most unique streets in any world – Temple, once home to Amber’s official houses of worship, now entirely devoted to arts and revelry; the shrines had been relocated to the countryside in the attempt to be closer to their Patron.  
  
Well, almost all - there was a small grotto-style shrine to the Unicorn sculpted into a building alcove that Sarah had missed seeing on her way down; the crowd must’ve been in the way. It was a rather simple, clean-looking affair, a high-relief of their Patron rearing on Her hind-legs carved in white marble, with a crowd of small, white votive candles lit at the base, garlands of fresh flowers strewn about it. There was something surprisingly moving about its presence here, unostentatious, welcoming to stranger and citizen alike, not unlike a small Earth shrine to the Buddha or the Virgin Mary. Sarah had started to walk closer to examine it when the even more familiar darkness of the Logrus lashed out at her internally in protest! It only took Sarah a moment to shake her head free of the confusion, catching her breath. Clearly one could not easily be chummy with them both - obvious, really; she’d simply had no idea the repellence would be that visceral! Instead, she ruefully smiled at the Unicorn in passing and kept right on walking; it was almost amusing in a weird way to think that she was now one of those things that probably couldn’t enter a Unicornian church.  
  
_Scratch seeing any temples here off the list of things to do_ , she thought, feeling the warning presence of the Logrus recede again. _Secular tourism it is_. The aftermath of the incident passed surprisingly quickly, shoved out of her conscious attention by so much other active stimuli vying for it every which way. She couldn’t resist window-shopping, stopping inside some of the family-run stores to peruse their exotic goods at her leisure: fine china with jaw-dropping designs; haberdasheries stocked with clothing every bit as wild as what was on the street; tapestries that could have rivaled some of the Sawall collection…hold it, a couple of these were Chaosian-made! Sarah nearly did a double-take upon seeing them, but a careful inspection showed that she was right – and the distance of the import showed on the price tag; she politely declined and moved on. She did find a nice evening wrap for herself – an undyed wool cape with a capacious hood and a neck closure clasp in the shape of a stylized dragon in pewter - that was within her budget (she had been sorely tempted to pick up one that had been dyed ‘Amber green’ with a tree-of-life clasp, but it had clashed too severely with her dress.) Coming up to the cross-street that the inn was on, she paused a moment, then kept on hiking up Temple; the regular walkers here had to be in excellent shape. Her fencing training was certainly coming in handy now with all of that leg muscle work; without it she would’ve been toast, although her calves were starting to burn a little as it was. She stopped briefly at one of the aforementioned street vendors for a shaved ice and just people-watched for a little bit. Once one got over the extreme eclecticism of style, it was truly a major marketplace like any other: some people trying to look cool (or, here, probably ‘hip’), some just trying to hang onto their children, most simply going about their business – not really that intimidating, at least up here. And what did it all address but the seemingly universal needs and wants of life: food and drink, clothing and household goods, intellectual and emotional stimulation.  
  
And a good laugh – she was just getting up to leave a tip and continue on when she heard the sound of a crowd erupting into raucous laughter a half-block away on a small side street to the west and she had to go investigate. To her surprise and delight, the cause of the merriment turned out to be an honest-to-god jester - harlequin outfit and all - seated at a small table outside of a tavern; he was obviously worse (or better) for wine and had decided to give anyone passing by an impromptu performance – many were lingering to hear his act. It was difficult to accurately gauge his height, but from how he appeared seated he had to have been a little guy – with a very loud voice. In fact, he was doing a standup comedy routine and he was actually pretty good…and then it dawned on Sarah that he had just seamlessly segued into an old Saturday Night Live skit! What the… Studying his face a bit harder, she noted that there was something decidedly alien about him, not totally human as she would categorize it.  
  
“Excuse me,” she quietly asked a woman wearing a cream-colored toga standing next to her, “but I’m new in town. Who is that man?”  
  
“No one save the king knows his real name or even where he’s from,” she replied quietly, “but Droppa MaPantz is the best of the best – his Majesty’s own jester. He is allowed to travel to distant lands for fresh material, although we rarely get to hear it. The man’s a right lush, Unicorn bless him,” she remarked, turning back to watch, “but I suspect someone with that many jokes and twists of logic dashing about in his mind like a pack of wild ferrets can’t rest easily in his own company, if you understand my meaning.”  
  
“I’m afraid I do,” Sarah sighed, watching Droppa crack up with his audience. She was all too aware of the concept; a couple of the actors in her mother’s troupe were that way, too, only for a slightly different reason – been too many characters. She waited to hear the payoff of the story he was currently telling, then slipped away again.  
  
The afternoon was simply gorgeous, but it had finally started to heat up; she simply had to get out of the sun – and easily located the first of the free art galleries on the strip. If the general populace on this side of town had been a bit unnerving initially, the art here was positively jarring: the capital of Order was the very last place she ever would have expected to find psychological surrealism! Had King Random been trading cultural notes with his half-Chaosian nephew?! Whatever the source of the influence, surrealism was everywhere, or at least visual distortion of the familiar; room after room of hellride-style flux assaulted the senses, some pieces simply breathtaking, others just a little too familiar for comfort. At length, these slightly gave way to simpler themes, but all were rendered in photorealistic style, mostly scenes of rural revelry and religious festivals, but a few attempts at members of the royal family were in the mix: equestrian portraits of several princes, Prince Benedict and Prince Eric heroically portrayed in huge oil paintings of different battles, and a rather godlike portrait of the late King Oberon that towered over the viewer, storm clouds gathering behind him, lightning fairly flashing in his eyes. There was one rather haunting wall-length rendering of the Unicorn keeping the Darkness at bay all by Herself – Sarah quickly passed it by, not caring to contemplate what it really signified.  
  
The hours passed quickly and soon it time for her to procure her own supper from the street vendors: she chose a simple repast of empanada-like meat pies, fresh grainy bread and grilled seasonal vegetable kabobs, with sweet yogurt for dessert. Sunset had been dazzling; the stars were just starting to come out one by one as she was finally trudging back to the inn, worn out enough for one day. Phosphorescent globular lamps lined the street now – or, rather, she simply hadn’t noticed them before – and while they provided sufficient illumination, they were yet dim enough that the full night sky could be seen in its true glory from here. By the time she was in her room again, the celestial tableau was fully visible, more stars than she had ever seen in her life on Earth, the moon a bright, thin silver sickle way up high. The sight suddenly made her homesick, but homesick for the shadow-world that Mandor had made for her, oddly enough, with its irregularly orbited pastel moons and its fantastic view of the infamous dancing heavens of Chaos. That, too, was a sight she would never forget. Amber’s universe, by comparison, was lovely, idealized, but stationary and lifeless, downright ironic in a land where the prevalent belief system embraced wholesale animism. She walked up to the window and looked out into the teeming world below, up again at those bright stars, and wondered where Mandor was right now, what he was doing. Whether he thought of her at all.  
  
Sarah should have asked herself this question upon her arrival in Amber, when that totally incongruent prickle ran up her spine, for it was the direct result of Lord Mandor’s… attention. In truth, by the time she was pondering this in Amber, three weeks had already flown by in the Courts and life at Mandorways had returned to normal (such as it was): the specially patched ways connecting the library to the gymnasium and a spare bedroom had been set to rights in their usual configuration, the physical doors and blocking spells along the walls removed. Sarah’s play and practice shadows were dismantled or left to go to seed, to revert to their natural states. Various minor repairs had been quietly attended to. It was as if she had physically never been there in the first place, a fact that would have genuinely put Sarah off a bit – but there was no harm in her not knowing. She had, however, continued on in the Chaos lord’s peripheral thoughts far more frequently than he had planned on, the result of some mildly disturbing information that he had deduced shortly after her departure from the Courts – a factor they had not initially taken into account but much could hinge upon. Once he had adequately seen the King on his way back to the Thelbane and made plans to visit him later in his private, social capacity (he had another menu to prepare, perhaps something that would trigger nostalgia in Merlin; he needed to keep his little brother’s ear bent towards him if not entirely his heart), Mandor had headed back to his demesne, in mind to do a little experiment of his own. Merlin had inadvertently mentioned DNA testing to determine the lineage of Sarah’s original, totally unaware that there was a way to discover some rather basic information arcanely. Really, the boy had come to rely far too heavily on that spikard, a fact that quietly rubbed salt into the psychological wounds of his foster brother’s botched-up scheme; his bespelled spikard would’ve been a huge success.  
  
But the current question at hand would be almost amusingly simple to answer, in part because the method was so old-school that Mandor hadn’t had need to utilize it since he was being tutored himself; Merlin had probably never even been taught it at all. He returned to Sarah’s apartment just in time to stop a maid from chucking the girl’s hairbrush, which had been left behind along with a good number of things in her forced haste; he retrieved it along with her sketchbook and her books from shadow before retreating to his sorcerous laboratory. What he was about to attempt could potentially have some voodoo-like sympathetic side effects that he would have to negate before proceeding very far. Crossing the small-sized, circular room to his black-painted worktable, Mandor magickally ‘cleared’ the space fresh, then, seating himself on the only stool in the room, removed a single long, dark hair from the brush, casting the rest along with the brush safely into the small but blazing fireplace, waiting a few moments for the flames to fully engulf it. He quieted his mind and performed a simple severing spell on the remaining hair-strand, so that what would follow would no longer affect Sarah personally – and she felt it from that far away!  
  
Opening the small ventilation window in the wall just above the table, Mandor proceeded to set up various beakers and burners from a stone shelf built into the side wall, along with a tray of various compounds in jars and test tubes, gradually putting into motion the complex alchemal operation for converting the hair into a single drop of blood; this accomplished, he then propped up two sizable mirrors in front and back of the new specimen, which rested on a tiny, thin silver spoon probe clipped onto a solid-gold stand. Muttering a long string of archaic Thari words under his breath, he used the Logrus to reach straight through the mirror in front, farther and farther away, the full distance to the very first reflection beyond the reflections, the one that proceeded all the others, not a reflection at all, in fact – and grabbed that probe, hauling it through to Chaos…there! It was in his left hand! The difficult portion achieved, Mandor put the mirrors and Sarah’s specimen aside, repeated the severing spell on the fresh specimen from the true girl (one could never be too careful with these things), then lit a normal, mundane candle and held the new probe a few inches above the flame, just enough to warm it. Unlike the blood of living things from practically anywhere else, the blood of a true Chaosian was highly flammable when exposed to air, catching even more quickly with heat; most who died in battle literally incinerated from wounds that otherwise might’ve been treatable. It was simply a physical liability they all had to live with.  
  
The blood sample merely dried on the probe. Mandor exhaled in relief: Sarah’s original was Order-based only. After another ‘clearing’ to neutralize the powers still functioning in the items he had been working with just now, he replaced the accoutrements of his magick back in their small shelves on the wall to his left, carefully wiping Sarah’s specimen on a shred of cloth and burning it in the grate, setting aside the hot probe with the dried blooddrop on a metal tray to cool before cleaning it. The suspicion that the girl could have been yet another scion of Amber with a Chaosian parent had been genuinely unnerving - the whole thing was starting to look like a breeding experiment they were not privy to at the very least: Merlin, Merlin’s cousin Rinaldo via Brand the Traitor, Merlin’s mother Lady Dara, and now a fourth, this one completely unrelated? Mandor held a distinct dislike for mysteries that did not include him in the planning. Thankfully his fears appeared to be unfounded.  
  
He was just preparing to quit the room when a small sound from the table caught his attention and he turned back: the probe on the tray had just emitted a miniscule puff of smoke…and a little flame followed, burning of its own accord as it rose and floated away out the open window! Mandor’s eyes widened at the implications: the fourth hybrid indeed - and another female at that!  
  
Which could only mean one thing at this stage of the game: The Blacklist. The worst crimes committed in or against Chaos by Chaosians were usually punishable by exile; death was hardly a threat – it was practically looked upon as a final sacrament by the pious. The Chaosian mind was as naturally repulsed by Order, static physics and certain strains of logic thereof, as those Orderborn were usually sickened or maddened by Chaos; just being denied that constant state of flux, the flow of life and the world as they knew it, was usually almost unbearable. Since Chaos’ loss in the Patternfall War, both sides had entered into treaties specifically forbidding the other from criminal acts in and near their respective capitals and environs. Peaceful espionage had run on unabated, but such a breach as this – an unauthorized breeding experiment of royal-Amberite caliber – was not only illegal as sin, but a direct threat to that very peace if officials in Amber ever caught wind of it. There were probably close to two-dozen exiled Chaosian nobles off in Shadow at this point – it was surprisingly easy to lose track of them, what with the extreme differences in the flow of time - but none had ever tried to inhabit the Order-shadows as far as the Golden Circle! Unless…  
  
Mandor latched the small window shut again, then turned on his heel in the direction of the Thelbane in all due haste. Regardless of what was going on out there, the king had to be made aware of the risk now. At least time was on their side – or, rather, they could accomplish vastly more within it. Amber had no such advantage. A well-orchestrated strategic attack on their ancient enemy was one thing, but an unsupervised rogue operation was a liability neither side could afford now, not with the treaties in place. A loose player could be dangerous for them all.


	12. A Shade Closer

Chapter 12 – A Shade Closer  
  
Just like clockwork, Sarah had another of her annoying nightmares her first night in Amber, but – thankfully – she had only woken up with a gasp instead of screaming like she always had previously, and before she had any time to think about it Ghost was there, faintly glowing, his orb hovering above her. Afterwards, she could only vaguely remember, but she knew he had been visibly pulsing at a very specific rate…and the next thing she knew she was waking up with the natural ambient light from the sun, streaming in through the curtains. She snuggled deeper under the covers, reluctant to get up - even just waking up here felt good – but she finally shuffled off down the hall to get ready for the day. It felt downright bizarre just how blank of a slate this week was; she had gotten rather used to having all of her time scheduled down to the nth degree, although the concept had initially been almost repellent to her. Now that she was away from Chaos and her life there, she had the leisure to finally reflect on the fact that a lot of that busy-ness had merely served to keep her from thinking about the situation too much – a sneaky but admittedly reasonable tactic given the circumstances. Mandor had always been frighteningly reasonable; it really was his one unique strength. Well, that and food; she already missed his ‘cooking’, even if his method was a little cheaty – that still took considerable knowledge and natural talent to consistently pull off.  
  
But that was the past now, Sarah reminded herself, washing up very quickly; how could there be that little hot water?! The real question was what in the world to do about the present. There was hardly any plan involved in this mission, which struck her as genuinely suspicious the more she thought about it, now that she was here. Granted, she had Ghost to help her, but how were they supposed to even go about looking for this girl? What if she wasn’t even here? Weren’t there half-a-dozen close shadows in the Golden Circle? Sarah had been so glad to be escaping her situation in Chaos that she hadn’t even thought to question this when Merlin initially brought it up, but in the cold light of day the proposition was simply nuts. Then again, so was just about everything else she’d done up to this point…  
  
Donning her same clothes (she would have to get a couple other outfits while she was here), Sarah ducked back into her room quick, grabbed some smaller change (she had a better variety of coinage now), locked up and headed downstairs for breakfast. She was surprised to hear what sounded like a heated debate before she even smelled the food. Rapidly rechecking her story should anyone ask, she came down into the large main room, nearly tripping over a gray tabby cat that darted past right in front of her!  
  
“Hello! I didn’t see you last night,” she said softly to the tom, bending to let him sniff her hand; he rubbed against her leg, then sauntered off in the direction of what she presumed to be the dining room, and she followed him in. Sure enough, there were five other guests in varying levels of ‘historical’ garb, seated together on benches at a long table – all unpolished wood, but beautifully carved along the fat edges with stylistic botanical designs. Meals here were clearly communal; there was a decent breakfast-type spread on the table and an empty place-setting between two women on the left – hers, she guessed. Two gentlemen on the other side immediately stood upon seeing her, interrupting their conversation.  
  
“Good morning!” the proprietress swished in behind her, all bright scarves and clanky jewelry, carrying a fresh metal teapot and going round, topping off mugs. “I trust you slept well. Sit down, sit down and eat!” she said as much to Sarah as to the men who were still standing awkwardly on protocol. Sarah quickly climbed over the bench into her designated spot, quietly greeting the ladies on either side of her; both were dressed in daringly ‘new’ fashion (for these people) – Jane Austen-ish empire-waisted morning dresses, with everything to match the time-period. But the young lady to her left had long, wavy bright-green hair - and green lips!  
  
“Everyone,” the proprietress announced, standing directly behind her, “this is Miss S’Aiya of Begma, just arrived yesterday, and she is learning the art of acting,” she added with an audible touch of pride, filling Sarah’s mug with piping-hot tea. “I’ll just leave you all to make your own introductions – I only allow first names in my house, and no titles. Not at the table, puss!” she scooped up her cat with her free arm; he had hopped up onto the right end of Sarah’s bench and had been sniffing the lady’s plate! She disappeared as quickly as she’d come.  
  
“If you truly wish to be an actress,” the young lady with the green hair addressed her, “you simply must see the Players of the Unicorn while you are here; they aren’t afraid of giving important, meaty parts to women like some others I could name,” she glanced accusingly at the black-haired man sitting directly across the table from her. “In fact, we were just discussing the place of women in the more modern arts right before you came down.”  
  
“If one can call such stubborn refusal to see or acknowledge any opinion but one’s own a discussion,” the man good-naturedly rejoindered. “I’m Joas of Kashfa and this is my wife Eliaz.”  
  
“Nice to meet you,” the light-brunette woman to his left added sweetly; they both looked Elizabethan.  
  
“We’re just sounding off, then?” the swarthy, bearded man on the other side of Eliaz queried. “Right. Dhakor of Eregnor, here on business but staying on the colorful side of town for a change,” he rakishly grinned with a fast sweeping glance about the room, “and definitely out of my depth around all these artists!”  
  
“It is not like you are going to be ousted for lack of imagination,” the slight, auburn-and-gray older woman with decidedly sharp features to Sarah’s right laughed. “I’m Graëtza of Deiga, performance artist – multimedia – and the rest of them are all your fellow actors, I believe, albeit in different styles, hence the quarrel,” she confided. “Best choose a side quickly.”  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the flighty young woman with the seemingly natural wild colouring to Sarah’s left suddenly interjected, “forgot to tell you my name: I’m Láre of Rebma – I know, not much of a trip compared to the rest of you, but the theater scene down under is so stuffy and formal that I simply must come up for air periodically, if you know what I mean. And then straightway I run into this!” she gestured toward Joas. “I mean, what era are we living in here?”  
  
Sarah had to work very hard not to laugh at this offhanded comment, hiding her smile behind a swallow of tea before dishing herself up – it was far funnier than the girl would ever understand. Or perhaps it was only Sarah’s Earth-centric upbringing and worldview that made it seem so – a rather unexpectedly jarring thought. She didn’t have much time to ponder the implications, though, finding herself immediately plunged into a serious aesthetic debate between a rather headstrong young actress (who might’ve been only a couple years older than Sarah herself) and a stage company director whose ideas about female propriety seemed to date back to Shakespeare, complete with men-only onstage! Of course, Sarah took Láre’s side, even letting slip that the reason she wanted to act in the first place was because of her mother. It took some fast mental footwork to come up with the story of how her seaworthy father had found his wayward bride in a distant shadow along the trade routes, but it came together far more easily than Sarah thought it would. In fact, the longer she rambled on about her fake life, it was almost a little worrisome to her just how easy it was to so blatantly lie to all of these people, but she rationalized it was part of her job here; she had to provide decent, believable cover for herself. The rest of the conversation was right up her alley, though, and it really was fascinating hearing about the arts traditions of such different, far-flung cultures like the deadly sand-scorpion dancers of the baking desert wastes of Deiga (both creatures lovely and dangerous to all but the most casual observer) and the preternaturally graceful, floating, slow-motion underwater menageries traditionally staged in Rebma, ‘The City in the Bay’, as it were, Amber’s first cousin of a shadow, hidden deep beneath the waves just offshore and to the west. Sarah had only fleetingly heard of Rebma in her studies and she was at once both surprised at how physically normal Láre seemed (she had half-expected its denizens to be merpeople) and terribly curious, wishing she could ask her much more about her homeland, knowing that she couldn’t; such queries would instantly single Sarah out as the stranger and alien that she was. She had to simply content herself with listening to the girl speak of what she would during the course of the conversation, but when she suggested to Sarah that they should go together to the theater she had mentioned before, Sarah jumped at the chance; it would be nice to have some human company once again. Well, humanish at any rate. The rest of the meal was rather uneventful (including the food – she really had gotten spoiled. It was hearty and filling, though; one certainly got one’s money’s worth here) and soon enough it was time for her to head back out. Making a fast trip upstairs before she left, she thought to check in with Ghost in the safe confines of her room.  
  
“Anything I need to know before we try again today?” she whispered, knowing perfectly well he would hear and answer.  
  
“I must advise against your being so free with your disinformation; try to only give out what you are directly asked for in future dealings here. That was quite a complicated line you came up with just now. I can only hope you don’t have any trouble remembering it all.”  
  
“I suppose I did get a little carried away,” Sarah admitted, “but that was so easy! You remember it all too, though, right?”  
  
Ghost hesitated. “You’re asking me to serve as a prompter?”  
  
“…no, I guess not,” she shrugged off the idea. “It looks pretty bad if I have a hard time remembering my own life! I’ll take notes if I have to, but I shouldn’t have much more to add to it from here on out, as far as I can tell. Any last-minute ideas of things I should try to do today? Places we should go? How are we ever going to find this kid?!” Sarah finally asked exasperatedly; the whole prospect was ludicrous.  
  
“You can leave the locating to me,” Ghost reassured her, “just try not to talk yourself into knots. Go be a tourist! Stick to Temple and the Concourse for right now; if I haven’t located her in two-days’ time you can start ranging further. Linger, meander, go places that would have interested you a few years ago had you been here. I’ll have a much better feel for what I’m up against by nightfall. Have fun and try not to worry; it’s not your fault if this quest fails – it’s my dad’s. Talk to you tonight!”  
  
And he winked out.  
  
If felt almost belittling to Sarah just how small of a role she had been assigned to play in this escapade, and she suddenly resolved to rise above it, to find the girl herself if she was here to find, feeling the need not only to be useful but to be able to prove herself. Easily taking the flights of stairs back down, she was out the door almost too fast for the proprietress to even wish her good day; the gleam of the hunt was in her eyes.  
  
_Alright, if I were that brat, where would I be hanging out?_ Sarah mused to herself, striding quickly down to Temple. The outrageously dressed denizens and patrons didn’t faze her today as they had yesterday and she was better able to concentrate on the task at hand. Heading further downhill to the Concourse, she began trying to memorize the streets – which shops were where (most of them were grouped by category.) Once there, she purchased a cheap map of the city proper and a small writing implement and started making notes in earnest whilst unobserved. The showy police force was still slightly unnerving for her, but she was getting better at outwardly taking their presence in the stride, going so far as to boldly wish a rather bored-looking old retainer good day just to see what would happen – practically nothing, it turned out. They were far too used to being casual with the general populace, which set her mind a little better at ease. She proceeded to spend the entire day leisurely strolling Concourse and Temple and partway down the central portion of Vine, taking in the sights, perusing the wares, sampling the medievalish street food. The novelty was slowly wearing off, the general pervading sense of eclectic ‘normalcy’ starting to creep into her bones like a warmth; it would have been a genuine relief save for why she was really here. All the horses (and what all accompanied their presence in the city) took a bit longer for her to get used to, though; while the northern, colonial-dated suburb of New York City Sarah had grown up in had been relatively quiet, it wasn’t so far out in the country that anybody had horses. This was something new (specifically, watching where she was stepping.)  
  
A few of the businesses were uniquely Amberite enough to genuinely distract her from her self-appointed task, however, especially one pet shop in particular on the corner of Vine and Temple that specialized in only one type of animal: miniature dragons! An extremely far cry from the towering menace that was currently circling south of the bay, the saurian reptiles bred for sale here were closer to skinny, wingless monitor lizards, albeit far more intelligent and highly personable; they came in a staggering variety of scale-colorings. The whole shop was simply buzzing with their whirring, chirping, clicking speech; they were communally caged according to subspecies in large enclosures somewhat off the floor, but this didn’t hinder them from ‘sniffing’ Sarah with their long tongues as she wandered past. A pair of larger, brilliant-violet ones had the run of the place and followed her about the entire time like spoiled puppies! The utilitarian-dressed middle-aged blonde woman who owned the establishment clearly knew her work and her prospective clientele: she very nearly tricked Sarah into buying one, a blaze-bright hatchling that was yet so small that Sarah could hold him in one hand; he was so cute she could just die. But, of course, she couldn’t get him.  
  
“I’d love to take him home,” she sighed, “but my parents would simply never allow me to keep such a pet.” _Although it would almost be worth the heart-attack it would give Karen_ , she thought ruefully, stroking him under his little chin and down his soft belly, as she had been shown; his big liquid-golden eyes were closed and he was vibrating.  
  
“Then you’d best hand him back,” the lady replied a bit irritatedly, “they imprint quickly at this age.”  
  
Sarah’s heart almost broke as she did so: the little creature immediately commenced making tiny crying noises, looking back in her direction longingly as the owner took him from her, stroking him to calm him back down. “It’s not your fault; she liked you,” she cooed in his pin-sized ear-hole, carefully placing him back into the warmed hatchery box, shutting the lid.  
  
“Sorry for being a mean tease,” Sarah added; there was a single, muffled chirp in response from inside.  
  
“Next time get your parents to come here with you; we’ll bring them round,” the owner replied conspiratorially. “Now, it’s treat time for Jewelblaze and Wisp - if you don’t indulge them, they literally won’t let you leave the shop!” She gave Sarah what appeared to be two chunks of dried fish and had her gingerly hold them high, one in each hand; at a predetermined signal, both violet dragons leapt up fluidly, snatching them from her fingertips!  
  
Sarah had just finished wiping her hands clean with a provided wet towel and was back on the street when she saw something that nearly made her stop breathing: she had just caught a glimpse of her own face in the crowd! It was a younger version, but the resemblance was uncanny – the girl’s sable hair was plaited back in a complicated braid, leaving her features extremely visible; she was wearing a deep forest-green dress…and she had just ducked into an upscale candy shop!  
  
Sarah ran down Temple, apologizing to people and rapidly excusing herself as she went; no one else was going into or out of the store, the kid was as good as hers! She arrived in a matter of seconds and burst through the door, nearly ready to try to summon her Logrus if possible to hold her…  
  
But there was nobody there! The place was empty, save for a redheaded man behind the side counter, laboriously cranking a manual taffy-pull machine; upon hearing her, he had automatically looked up from his work in surprise.  
  
Sarah blinked. It was impossible. Unless the girl had just snuck out the back…  
  
“Can I help you, miss?” he asked, wiping his hands off on his white apron.  
  
Sarah had to think fast. “I thought I saw my little sister dart in here,” she gasped, “she got away from me farther back up the street – wearing a green dress. Looks a lot like me – about eleven years old. No?”  
  
The man just shook his head, smiling, coming around to the front counter where there were tall, circular stools. “I wish she had; I’ve had few customers today. Here,” he poured a small glass of soda water from a tap, adding a shot of flavored syrup, handing it to Sarah, “on the house.”  
  
Sarah walked over - nodding her thanks, catching her breath - and downed it thirstily; it was mint!  
  
“You are a visitor here yourself?”  
  
Sarah nodded again, polishing off the glass instead of answering him more directly, handing it back. “Thanks.”  
  
“Well, there’s a toyshop just a few doors down from here that she might have found,” the man stated with obvious worry, “but perhaps it would be better to get one of the City guards to help you look for her – Temple Street is no place for an unsupervised child.”  
  
Sarah nearly startled at the suggestion of directly involving Amber’s law enforcement, but she managed to stifle the outward reaction, shaking her head. “She can’t have gone that far; I’ll find her. Where did you say that store was?”  
  
“Just eight down on the west side of the street. Are you certain you don’t want assistance?” he asked dubiously, removing his apron.  
  
“We’ll be fine – really,” Sarah quickly reassured him, making for the door, “but thanks anyway. Maybe we’ll come back in sometime!” And before the well-meaning owner could object any further, she was out and speeding down the street. She located the aforementioned toyshop easily enough but, as she suspected, the girl was nowhere to be found. What the heck had just happened back there?! Later on back in her room at the inn, she asked Ghost about the incident and was even more baffled by his own reaction.  
  
“I knew you thought you saw something from your energetic course of action, but there was nobody there!”  
  
“What? Oh, come on!” she whisper-shouted. “She stood still right outside of that shop for five whole seconds! She’s the spitting image of me right before I started middle school! How could you have possibly missed her?”  
  
“Sarah,” he began again carefully, “I was simultaneously scanning the entire street at the time. No one at all was in front of that store. Nobody. Are you certain it wasn’t just your imagination? You have been terribly concerned about this ever since we arrived.”  
  
“I know what I saw,” Sarah indignantly rejoindered, crossing her arms, leaning back in the soft, comfy chair, but the whole affair was rather unsettling. Had she imagined it? She didn’t think so – the girl had been standing right there clear as day and looking more than a little sneaky. Sarah hadn’t been thinking of her at all when the incident occurred. It might’ve been a trick, she was finally willing to concede, but whose? “Ghost,” she asked right before heading back down (Láre was waiting for her in the main room; they were going to grab a quick dinner then head up the hill to see the Players of the Unicorn that night), is it possible for someone to cast an illusion spell that you can’t detect?”  
  
“Oh, to fabricate an artificial phantom that wouldn’t scan, you mean,” he quickly caught onto her train of thought. “I don’t think so. I suppose it’s a remote theoretical possibility, but a stunt that powerful would be far beyond the means of any child of Amber, especially untrained. It’s an interesting idea, though, unless she’s… no, nevermind.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“It’s something that I instantly realized is completely impossible. Go enjoy your show – force the other young lady to do most of the talking this time. I just have to devote some of my circuits to a little extraneous homework while you sleep tonight.”  
  
And Sarah couldn’t pry anything further out of him. It was positively infuriating that he might be withholding vital information from her, but there really wasn’t anything she could do about it at present. Resolving to find a way to shake him down later, she grabbed her hooded cloak and soon the two girls were swallowed up in the glorious commotion that was Temple in the bright summer evening. Performers that didn’t even busk in daylight hours made a killing in tips from well-dressed aristocracy out taking in the evening air on their way to the galleries, the theaters, the nightclubs (there were a handful but Sarah wasn’t about to venture inside of one to see what they were really like; the ticket people at the doors looked positively scary in an almost kinky sort of way), along with the more regular throng, which was in equally high spirits and out for some fun. Láre opted for a sidewalk café just kitty-corner to the Unicorn, and they scarfed down their dinners while watching an impromptu act with a fire-eater and a woman having an existential argument as five completely different people (or did she just have multiple personality psychosis? Clearly no one cared either way – at least she was getting tipped well whether it was an intentional performance or not.) Sarah tossed her a couple obols, too, and they crossed the street to the theater.  
  
She had been genuinely curious as to what kind of plays would be staged here in the ‘One True City’, whether the content would strike her as more historical, mythological or modern. This one in particular was extremely modern, an almost psychological futurist drama – but with an intermittent chorus like an ancient Greek tragedy! The spectacle was thoroughly engrossing and thought-provoking but some of the covered subject matter did nothing to help Sarah’s quiet anxiety about her own situation – not just in Amber, but as she was now, period. How could she ever go back to a normal life when this was over? Would she ever again be fully content in the static world she belonged to? What would happen with her new powers? Would she have future missions for Chaos? Why had she even been chosen in the first place? What did it all portend?  
  
Láre noted her companion’s sullen countenance upon their exiting the building. “Did the performance rub you the wrong way, S’Aiya? I know that was pretty high-brow/cerebral stuff, but nothing could be as bad as ‘A Conversation Between Two Chaosians’; some patrons demanded their money back for being forced to watch two black-costumed individuals stare at each other without blinking for two hours!”  
  
Sarah stifled a laugh and ruefully smirked, shaking herself of her current mood. “Oh, it’s nothing, just got me thinking is all. Existence is just too mysterious…” she trailed off wistfully, looking up at another perfect, stationary night sky.  
  
“And yours isn’t mysterious enough?” the other girl ventured playfully.  
  
Sarah had to quickly remind herself of her role, her alleged background; it had almost been too tempting to just relax – she genuinely wished she could. “My life had been downright boring up until this week!” she forced herself to laugh. “If I may be perfectly honest, yours sounds far more exciting. And you don’t have to do anything fancy to get here – you can just walk!”  
  
Láre smiled a little patronizingly. “I suppose that part is a privilege, although I fear you would find my daily existence very mundane as well, aside of the elemental difference. About the only ‘excitement’ we endure every once-in-a-blue-moon are the great dragons that come to fish in Amber’s rich waters. Most of the beasts know that a direct attack on Rebma means a grizzly underwater demise, but there have been rare exceptions that have warranted the hunt. Even with their close proximity, Amber seems to never be troubled similarly by them.”  
  
“Alright, that’s an excitement I think I can live without,” Sarah laughed nervously, looking out in the direction of the bay again. _And I’m definitely going to have nightmares tonight!_ “What do you think of that one that’s been circling out there?” she pointed. The moonlight faintly highlighted a distant pair of gray-webbed, scaled wings, floating almost effortlessly in the night sky.  
  
“She is a strange one,” Láre conceded, “hasn’t even descended to feed yet, almost like she’s waiting for her mate to join her. Hopefully it is not the beast Amber’s army is currently tracking in the Arden near to the border of the outlying farm country; if he is killed, she may prove difficult to dislodge from the bay. But enough of our local troubles – you’re here on holiday! Have you given any further thought as to what else you might want to do while you are here? Tell me you will participate in the improv night at the inn!”  
  
“I plan on it,” Sarah replied easily as a string of brightly jingling dancers wound on past them, “just sort of playing it by ear for right now.”  
  
They got back to the inn late; only a few candles were still lit, the fire in the main room was banked down. Sarah was dead on her feet by the time she had climbed all those stairs and had gotten ready for bed. As she staggered into her room, she saw that her nightlight that wasn’t really a nightlight was waiting for her. For a brief moment she was reminded of those balls of light people used in lieu of Tinkerbell for Shadow Earth stagings of Peter Pan.  
  
“Sarah,” he said quietly once she’d closed and locked the door, “I’ve been thinking.”  
  
“That makes two of us,” she sighed, flopping down on the mattress, crawling under the nice, thick covers; it did get chilly here at night.  
  
“If you see that phantom girl again, signal me and I’ll run intensive arcane and shadow-dragging scans of where both of you are. I believe that you really did see something and for whatever reason someone wants either you or the general public to at least think that she’s here; if I can track the construct back to the sender it may be even more informative than finding your original herself. There’s even the slight chance that she may not be at all aware that her likeness is being used this way. It wouldn’t be the first time that a totally innocent descendent of Oberon was taken advantage of simply by dint of what they were.”  
  
_And the girl might not even know…_ Sarah shuddered at the thought.  
  
“Sorry,” Ghost suddenly apologized, “I forgot you’re sort of in that boat, too. Shouldn’t have brought it up.”  
  
Sarah gave a sad little lip-smile. “None of us is really worth more than the sum of our parts, are we?”  
  
“What brought that thought on?”  
  
“Oh, just thinking about my own predicament. What it’ll be like going back, after…” She just shook her head.  
  
“You should talk to my dad again before you go home,” Ghost stated decisively. “I think he’s been though some bouts of existential questioning himself, although I concede the difference in situation. Talking to him has always helped me with my problems, too; he’s a good listener.”  
  
“As are you.”  
  
“Thank you; I’ve been learning social behavior from his example for some years now, but I know I have a ways to go yet before I will fully sound passably human.”  
  
“Being human isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, either,” Sarah folded her arms behind her head. “Goodnight – Ghost?”  
  
He had automatically dimmed down already. “What is it, Sarah?”  
  
“You know how you were…flashing, last night?”  
  
The ball of light floated over. “That frequency rapidly induces delta rhythms in the human brain – deep sleep. You want for me to do it again?”  
  
“I just can’t afford to wake up screaming here. I’ve been plagued with recurrent nightmares ever since my trial with the Logrus; I was really lucky last night. And I was just told something rather graphically disturbing about dragons in Rebma not half-an-hour ago.”  
  
“Oh, yes,” Ghost sighed in assent; from his tone of voice Sarah could tell that if he’d had eyeballs he would’ve just rolled them. He descended closer; the visual pulsing immediately commenced right above her face. “Think of that warm, golden Amber sunlight sparkling on the water, Sarah,” he said quietly in his deeper Merlin voice.  
  
And within moments it was sparkling behind her eyelids. _It’ll be okay_ , she thought driftingly. _I’ll find that stupid girl if it’s the last…  
_  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
But in spite of her resolve, the following two days proved to be frustratingly fruitless, and it certainly wasn’t for any lack of effort by either party. Sarah had people-watched by the hour at various sidewalk cafes all over the city. She had frequented shops that would’ve peaked her interest had she been in Amber in the fifth grade with a handful of drachms burning a hole in her pocket. She’d even started hiking around different neighborhoods. Nothing – not a single glimpse, not an energy or spell blip. Nothing. It was starting to irk Sarah just how rashly she had handled that first sighting – she may have inadvertently bungled their one chance at catching her original, as much as Ghost kindly tried to convince her otherwise. The only thing that was nearly as troubling to Sarah was the fact that out of all the known scions of the throne of Amber (granted, according to at least one reputable source, there were nearly three-dozen illegitimates still unaccounted for – Oberon had been a prolific cheater in his heyday), the only one that bore any resemblance at all to either of Sarah’s biological parents might’ve been Princess Deirdre – and she’d met her end unexpectedly in the Patternfall War some years ago, literally dragged over the edge of the Pit of Chaos by none other than the mad traitor Prince Brand as he fell to his death. Not that Sarah thought that such distinguished personages were her own literal parents, but if she was a shadow with an original in Amber, at least some of her immediate family tree would have to superficially follow suit. Sarah had mentioned as much to Ghost and he had managed to show her one of the princess’ old portraits from the Castle; there was a peculiar kind of a likeness after a fashion, but really it was too vague – and the similarity was more towards Sarah than her mother. Unsettling.  
  
Her time spent in Amber wasn’t a total waste, though: it gave her a chance to mentally decompress from her time living in isolation in Chaos, which she was beginning to suspect was Merlin’s real motive for sending her here ostensibly to relax for a week-and-a-half before sending her home. She was getting used to the idea of furniture that didn’t float of its own accord again as well as a world that generally behaved according to Newtonian and Euclidean physics (the jury was out on Copernican in Amber-proper). Her interactions with the general public were steadily getting easier as she resumed a more natural social mode of life. Just being outdoors was definitely beneficial to her physical and mental well-being. The whole process could pretty much be summed up as gently reacquainting her with an Earthlike world before it was time for her to plunge back into the real thing – well, figuratively-speaking, anyway.  
  
The afore-advertised improv night at the inn proved to be rather popular and well-attended in comparison to some of the other artistic gatherings that had been staged that…week? (the concept didn’t exist in Amber). The audience was well-acquainted with the style of theater and the brave volunteers performed both comedy and drama sketches, not a few of which were on loan from the Players of the Unicorn that night - both S’Aiya and Láre took their turns during the comedy parts; Joas had refused. Sarah had thought that this was going to be fairly easy – she was used to doing improv exercises in theater class at school, she was actually pretty good at them – but to her consternation she quickly discovered that her Shadow Earth knowledge and experience were almost a dangerous handicap here, and it wasn’t too long before the other players could tell she was self-censoring too often, trying to think of what she could legitimately say here without getting herself into any trouble, and she was kindly allowed to join the audience again with words of encouragement for her art, that she would get better the longer she worked at it. The incident had been embarrassing, but really it could have gone a lot worse; she had been very lucky. On the whole, the show was still pretty enjoyable.  
  
The more mundane aspects of this trip, on the other hand, were actually going rather well. On top of the seemingly mandatory ‘sightseeing’, she had gotten to do a little extraneous shopping; it turned out that she had been allotted more than sufficient funds for the mini-vacation once she realized that it was normal to haggle down prices in the marketplace. So far, besides the cloak and an extra dress (mixed pastels and princessy with very long, draped sleeves – something she could probably wear to a renaissance fair afterwards) she had gotten a new green-leather journal with old-fashioned pressed paper, a billowy sky-blue silk blouse she knew she could wear with jeans and incidentally drive her stepmother crazy with (oh, she did not miss that woman!) and a small pendant necklace from the city’s only tourist shop: it was delicately and ornately carved out of a piece of real amber rosin in the shape of a heart. She couldn’t resist; it was like their version of I [heart] NY.  
  
And then, on the morning of her fifth day in the city, without any ado, the ominous dragon that had been tarrying above the bay for weeks suddenly turned and flew away south beyond the horizon and didn’t return: it was safe to go down to the beach again! With Ghost on the lookout but no further active plans (between the two of them they had combed the entire city; Ghost had taken to venturing through private residences and the harbor districts while she slept), Sarah had managed to goad Láre into going down to the coast with her, which really took some doing because what she really wanted to see was the staircase down to Rebma, the famous Faiella-bionen, far to the west of the city.  
  
“I’m not about to get all briny again until it’s time for me to go home,” Láre had laughed, “but I’ll watch you get soaked to the skin. I’ll warn you the lady of this house charges extra for laundron duties – I got gauged upfront and I’m fairly certain I arrived with even less luggage than you; land-dwellers wear far more clothing than we do down below.” It was customary for people who even approached Rebma to wear their regular clothing in spite of the possibility of water-damage as a sign of respect, however – this was no snorkeling expedition!  
  
The girls split the fare for a breezy horse-drawn cab to take them down past the harbor most of the way out to the marker stones at the beach; the crowd dropped off the farther they went until no one else was left. The sand was pink striped with black and the ocean was so, so blue.  
  
_At least the sky isn’t purple_ , Sarah thought with an odd note of humor, remembering that dream. They disembarked a little further on and walked the rest of the way; there were too many boulder-sized rocks and chunks of bright coral out here for the carriage to be safely driven over. The cabbie had been instructed to come back to where he had let them off in about an hour, and his lone chestnut horse pounded away with the open vehicle back up the surf. There were caches of large shells washed up here and there along the strand, and it was still early enough in the morning that the sea breeze was a little cool even though the sun was already hot; it was a beautiful day to be out here. Láre made for a manmade rock formation up ahead – circular, natural stones stacked in the shape of a pyramid – and pointed down into the water.  
  
“Well, there’s your destination,” she stated, seating herself atop another rock outcropping, “don’t be all day down there. Whatever you do, stay on the staircase – off of it, the cumulative water-pressure could easily kill you. There’s no point in trudging all the way to the bottom unless you have a particular interest in topless guards with tridents and spears who won’t let you into the city, but you can make out the top turrets of our highest buildings about two-thirds of the way down. Have fun,” she added a little sarcastically, and Sarah reflected that this was probably the last thing she had envisioned doing on her vacation and resolved to be quick; she was no pearl-diver and could only hold her breath for about five minutes tops anyway. She also felt a slight unease about leaving her trump-pack on shore in her purse (along with her leather shoes) with a relative stranger, but the girl seemed fairly trustworthy or she wouldn’t be here at all. It was probably okay as long as she didn’t know what all was in the bag.  
  
Commencing her descent, Sarah was immediately struck by the fact that the water wasn’t buoyant; she was solidly walking downwards exactly as if she were on land – the gravity was the same, her movement was only slightly impeded a little by the heavier medium. Weird. The smooth-but-not-slippery steps were long at first but they were followed by shorter, steeper ones, followed by more long. By the time Sarah was fully submerged, she could finally see just how far down this thing actually went: the wide, banistered staircase literally vanished into the black depths of the sea, obscured with the blue of the water. There might’ve been light much further down but it was indistinct. She paddled upwards with some difficulty through the strange liquid and broke the surface with a gasp.  
  
“That was fast!” Láre remarked from the shore, sitting up. “Did you change your mind?”  
  
“I had no idea it was that deep and murky!” Sarah called back, swimming towards the shore. “I can’t hold my breath for that long!”  
  
“But you don’t! Just breathe!”  
  
“What?!”  
  
“Oh, for…”  
  
And before Sarah even realized what the girl was doing, Láre casually stripped down to her lace knickers and swam out to her!  
  
“Were you taught nothing of us in Begma?” she asked incredulously upon reaching her, “Or did you think we were fish-people with gills in our necks? The water on Faiella-bionen has extra oxygen in it, same as Rebma – you can breathe it directly, it won’t hurt you in the least.” And Láre dipped under the surface and fully exhaled and inhaled! “See?” she said, still submerged, looking up at her; it made the girl’s voice sound a little funny, but Sarah could still hear her clearly. “Just exhale as hard as you can before breaking the surface,” and she did so, inhaling air once more, “it’s less of a shock on the lungs that way. Now you try – I’ll stay right here with you.”  
  
Sarah was working very hard not to notice that the Rebman girl’s more intimate parts were the exact crazy shade of green as her lips and hair as she dove under the surface again, with Láre standing beside her bold as brass, holding her hands. Sarah managed to exhale a teensy bit in the water, but almost instantly broke surface again.  
  
“I’m sorry, I just can’t force my body to do it! My diver’s reflex is too strong!”  
  
Without any warning, Láre swiftly yanked her back under and tickled her hard, making Sarah laugh and gasp automatically. The girl stopped just as suddenly, holding her arms steady with a triumphant grin. Sarah’s eyes went wide in disbelief, realizing what the Láre had done – and what she was now in consequence doing! And they were standing on the stairs, three feet below the surface.  
  
“There,” Láre said, “see? Inhale. Exhale. Simple. Now, I’m going to go bake dry on that nice warm beach. Stay in the very middle of the staircase if you can help it and take your time – remember you have to walk the distance both ways. You’ll be fine,” she admonished a bit teasingly, then swam away, back to shore.  
  
_Exhale. Inhale. Wow._ This was the first time since she’d left Chaos that Sarah had thought of Mandor’s ring – but of course it was back on shore with everything else she didn’t want destroyed by saltwater. Her heart was pounding as she recommenced the long flight downwards. This was surreal! She could now see that the staircase and banister were both carved out of what appeared to be a pale-watermelon tourmaline – just like the turnstile in the main hallway in the Ways of Sawall! Some property of this particular stone had to be conductive to transportation magic work, she mused, walking farther and farther in slow motion. She could see what Láre was getting at: this was a heck of a long trip down and there really wasn’t much to see along the way besides schools of small fish. Plankton and organic sea detritus fogged her vision periodically and it finally became so dark that there were huge, miraculously burning green sconces lighting the way every so many stairs, keeping the otherwise frigid waters surprisingly warm with their radiant heat. Much, much farther down, she could just barely make out what had to be the Gates of Rebma at the very sea-bottom, well-lit, but there were other lights as well: pale, tall towers gleamed faintly in the murky depths, and many pastel-colored hexagonal windows beautifully illuminated the oceanic midnight. It was like something out of a dream. And, as also forewarned, the hike back up was a lot harder - Sarah had to stop to catch her breath twice before being able to continue on – but she eventually made it back to the surface, sopping wet and nearly feeling like an idiot for not stripping down a little herself anyway, coughing up the remainder of the seawater reflexively even though she wasn’t actually choking on it.  
  
“That was incredible!” she gasped, beaching herself on the shore, panting. Láre was still sunbathing topless, about as self-conscious as a sea lion; clearly the radiation never altered her ivory skintone one bit.  
  
“Oh, it’s home,” she sighed. “I really prefer being up here in the warmth and the light but I suppose we all want certain things because we can’t have them,” she observed, slowly sitting up and brushing the sand off herself before slipping her camisole and pale Regency dress back on, along with her thin shoes.  
  
The articles of clothing really seemed like a costume to Sarah now; the girl probably wore next-to-nothing in her own world. These people didn’t have nylon or spandex, and any normal cloth would probably just rot down there, not to mention being bulky and awkward to move in. _Now if only there were some handy anatomically-sized scallop shells…_ but it looked like the big shells on the beach were all conches. Still… the partial nudity had to be cultural.  
  
The cab was just returning but it was still a fair distance away; Láre had spotted it, too, and had bent down to give Sarah a hand up, but she waved her off.  
  
“You go on ahead, I’m not quite ready to leave just yet. Thanks for showing me this place; I realize this was probably the last thing you planned on doing during your time away.”  
  
Láre quirked her bright-green lips. “It is rare to find a Lander who is actually excited by the prospect of that road, let alone eager to tread it. I think you may be more adventurous than you have been given the opportunity for as of yet. But are you sure you do not wish to return to town with me? It’s a two-mile walk just to get to the harbor from here, and it’s going to get considerably hotter in about another hour. Next time bring provisions and take the cab in the other direction if you want to go explore the sea caves.”  
  
_Sea caves?_ Sarah thought, suddenly wishing she had actually purchased one of those overpriced tourist’s destination maps back at that one shop. Or at least asked Ghost far more questions. “I’ll be alright, I don’t plan on being too long. It’s just so stunningly beautiful out here.”  
  
“I keep forgetting this is your first trip to Amber,” the girl replied with a distinct note of good-natured humor. “Just be careful not to get sunstroke. I’ve got an invite to a literary salon for lunch and I need to go freshen up so nobody complains of yet another Rebman reeking of seaweed and chum!” she laughed, running out to the approaching carriage. “I’ll see you later then!”  
  
“Later!”  
  
Sarah watched the cab recede back up the beach, eventually turning up onto Harbor Road, vanishing from view. She was alone with the sun and the birds and the gentle lapping of the deep sapphire waves, the perfect compliment to that brilliant turquoise sky.  
  
And Ghost. “For goodness sake, put your trumps back on, Sarah!” he almost immediately scolded her; they were still secreted in the bottom of her carryall.  
  
“We couldn’t exactly have them getting all wet, now could we?” she easily rebuffed him, sitting up and slipping her dress up far enough to strap the hip-level leather hollister back in place, smoothing the material back down over it.  
  
“But you left them with that girl!”  
  
“Would you prefer I’d left them at the inn?”  
  
“I would have preferred that you had given them to me for safe-keeping,” he finally replied a bit more calmly, “but I suppose that’s neither here nor there at present. Sorry for getting on your case; you just worry me when you take risks like that.”  
  
“You know, it’s actually okay for you to suggest ideas to me.”  
  
“I wasn’t entirely certain on that point; it wasn’t made explicit in my list of directives in dealing with you. I was under the impression that my dad wanted you thinking for yourself with as little outside interference as possible.”  
  
“Oh,” Sarah answered a bit awkwardly. Silence. Waves. “So…still no luck?”  
  
“I’m starting to think that your initial hunch may have unfortunately been correct – that she’s in another shadow, possibly even in transit between here and there somehow. We would have located her by now had she truly been physically present here.”  
  
Sarah sighed, closing her eyes. Of course she’d been right: this trip had only been orchestrated to discreetly help her reassimilate into Order. The only weird thing was that she really didn’t believe Merlin had been lying about this situation, either. Maybe there was some covert operation going on out on this side of the spectrum, but the odds of her running into it blindly…  
  
Were one-in-one, apparently; Sarah had just caught a glimpse of someone or something watching them from behind one of the larger rocks down the strand; dark-brown hair and mischievous green eyes peeked out for only a moment…then again from behind a different rock further on!  
  
“Ghost!” Sarah hissed, pointing.  
  
“I can’t see it!” he whispered back. “Wait, I have an idea. Can I metabolize just a fraction of your bioelectrical output for a second? I think the phenomena is deliberately using you as an antenna to make the visual signal stronger for you.”  
  
“I guess so – hurry, there it is again! Just beyond that ledge!” She felt a slight momentary weakness that left almost as soon as it came.  
  
“Oh, there you are – I see her now; the frequency being used for this is obviously very faint. It was probably drowned out by the background bioresonance of all the people in the City before. Stay right here - I’m going to fly on ahead and see if I can get a clearer scan of her; now that I know what frequency to utilize, I can synthesize harmonics for it. Back in five!”  
  
And he winked out. Sarah stood up a little shakily, brushing the excess sand off of her dress, trying to shake her hair clean; she really needed to ‘freshen up’ herself. Donning the cross-body bag, she paced along the shore in nervous excitement – this could be the break they were waiting for at long last! She only hoped that the apparition wouldn’t turn out to be just that once again, hoping that they would have more to report back than just a vague confirmation of suspicious activity. Sarah itched to trump Merlin right now to let him know what was going down, to ask him for advice, but in all likelihood the call would never even make it to its destination without Ghost’s added power on the connection and he was busy at the moment.  
  
But his familiar ball of light abruptly flared right in front of her again, startling her a little.  
  
“It turns out both of us were right, Sarah; there really is something there, but it’s just a very tentative construct made to resemble some version of you. The thing is nimble at teleporting this close to Amber, which definitely suggests real strength behind the design, though, whatever-it-is. I chased her all the way across the beach and she just entered the caves; I think we’d better follow to see what she’s up to. Most of them are relatively shallow, but a few of the deeper passageways farther in actually link up with the lower dungeons of Castle Amber, excavated from the bowels of Mount Kolvir! The Pattern’s down there, too! You’d better arm yourself – she was phasing in and out the whole time. Hang tight!”  
  
And before Sarah even had time to ask, Ghost effortlessly whisked her into the caves! Apart from his own light (which he had dimmed) it was really dark in here and obviously going to get even darker. Collecting her wits, Sarah quickly summoned her version of the Logrus into readiness (not quite as easy to perform in this place – had to have had to do with the proximity of the true Pattern) and cautiously followed Ghost’s darting light down the passageway. It certainly smelled of the sea in here; there was yet a little sand underfoot, but it quickly changed to gravel and then solid rock. On she walked, trusting that Ghost could sense this fellow apparition, but she hadn’t spotted her at all since they…  
  
A young Sarah-face had just glanced back at them from a hundred feet ahead! Ghost shot off after her down a side corridor and Sarah followed as best she could, using a faint spirit-light to see by, but after a few more turnings she was fairly certain that she had lost both of them in the branching tunnels and momentarily wondered whether it wouldn’t be safest at this point just to stay put and wait for Ghost to come back for her; she wasn’t even certain she could find her own way back out at this point!  
  
Then on a whim she decided to try the Logrus – what harm could it do just to see where the girl was? It was incredibly difficult to perform here, but Sarah just barely managed to don the black tendrils like gloves and was reaching out into the darkness…reaching…in her mind’s eye she noted Ghost and passed him…her own young visage looked back at her and pulled an immaturely rude face in mockery…  
  
And Sarah accidentally walked straight into an armored guard! He yelled in surprise and lifted the lamp he was carrying to see her more clearly; the blackness of the Logrus fled along with her broken concentration and her spirit-light.  
  
“What in Amber and you doing sneaking about down here?!” he bellowed, his eyes, nearly as wide as her own.  
  
For a moment Sarah was so surprised and frightened that she couldn’t think of a single thing to say as she stood there like a statue, suddenly ice-cold, staring.  
  
“Well?”  
  
“I…I was…looking for someone, and I got lost,” she faltered, feeling very small and vulnerable, especially without Ghost!  
  
The guard gave a clipped, annoyed sigh, relaxing a little. “Didn’t anyone teach you not to wander in so far from the beach?” he scolded, taking her by her right upper-arm. “You’re extremely lucky you ran smack into me as you did - you could’ve been lost in here for good!” he exclaimed, leading her back down the passageway she had just come out of, turning right. Probably leading her back out. “You’re obviously a visitor; locals know better than this,” he grumbled. “Where are you from? What ship did you come in on?”  
  
“I’m from Begma.” Sarah was genuinely panicking now – that second question had never had an answer in her story! “I arrived only five days ago.”  
  
“I’d guess as much from the looks of you, but on…which…what is that you’re wearing?” The guard stopped in his tracks: he had just noticed that something hidden in the front of her dress was glowing!  
  
_The brooch!_ Sarah had nearly forgotten – it hadn’t so much as sparkled ever since she got to Amber; she had assumed incorrectly that it was a property of true Order itself that cancelled out the phenomenon, not that she had performed no magic here!  
  
“Just a silly trinket,” she nervously lied, “I bought it in the City.”  
  
He held the light up again, scrutinizing her face more closely for a moment; he clearly wasn’t buying it. “May I see your papers, please?”  
  
Sarah fought to keep her hands from shaking as she dug them out, handing them over; they had been good enough to fool the banks. The guard poured over them carefully – and suddenly furrowed his dark, bushy brows.  
  
“I’ve got relations out Begma-way,” he started carefully, “and I’ve never heard of a ship builder named Clorindo Naylor. Never heard of anybody even named Clorindo. You never answered my question about what vessel you traveled here in. Surely you remember the captain’s name?”  
  
“I’m drawing a blank at present. Your manner is making me nervous.”  
  
“Then perhaps you can at least recall the last four bars of ‘The Ballad of the Water Crossers’ – common enough tune for a household in the mercantile fleets of the Golden Circle. How does it end again?”  
  
He had given her every chance he possibly could. Sarah sighed, closing her eyes.  
  
“I don’t remember.”  
  
“And who did you say you were looking for down here? Or can you not remember that, either?”  
  
Where the heck was Ghost when she needed him?! She couldn’t meet the guard’s eyes anymore; she just stared at the candlelight reflecting off his scalemail tunic. “My little sister. She’s about so-high and she looks just like me-”  
  
“I’ll bet,” he answered darkly, his grip on her arm tightening. “Hey!” he called back behind him. “Get over here on the double!”  
  
Two other guards rushed down from somewhere in the tunnels and presently joined them, hemming in Sarah on all sides. The first held her arms up while another searched her person, taking her bag; the third held an armed crossbow but didn’t currently have it aimed at her. The brooch they discovered immediately, but it proved to be her small collection of rare trumps that sealed her doom.  
  
“What’ve we here?” one of the guards extracted the pouch out of the slit pocket in her dress; Sarah tried not to wince as he rifled through them like they were nothing more than a standard pack of playing cards. “These are Chaosian-made! High-ranking, too!”  
  
“All right,” the first guard said, now sounding very much like the law enforcement he was, “I don’t know how you got here, but I know which boat you’re leaving on – the first one out of the harbor, with an armed escort to make sure you don’t come back! Move!” They commenced force-marching her back up the passage.  
  
“But I can’t leave!” Sarah blurted in protest.  
  
“You’re outrageously lucky to be able to,” the guard to her back with the crossbow ground out; it was certainly aimed at her now! “You should be doing a stint in the dungeon on the old political enemy row at least, but the Concord’s the Concord, and it’s far too lenient on foreign spies if you ask me!”  
  
“But I have to see the king!” she thankfully remembered. The troop stopped.  
  
“What?” the one with the lantern asked, raising it.  
  
Sarah forced her breathing steady. “I was told if I was captured I had to speak to the king,” she managed a little more firmly, though she was shaking, and she held up the hand with Merlin’s ring. The guard grabbed her wrist, holding her hand to the light to better see… and instantly paled upon recognizing a personal token of the King of Chaos! But he presently collected himself, smiling coldly.  
  
“Looks like she does get to stay with us for a little while after all, boys. Take her away! Watch yourselves – she could turn into anything given the chance! Put her in the magickally warded cell on the end of the block!”  
  
“What?!” Sarah screamed as she was double-quick marched down, down, down into the depths of the mountain, into sections that were no longer carved by nature but by man!  
  
“You get to await King Random’s convenience; you’ll have your ‘audience’ with him when he pleases.” They all laughed at that. Without any further ceremony, they emerged into an open, stone-columned hall with several adjacent tunnels; taking the first one, the company walked all the way down to a dead-end, past about two-dozen thick wooden doors to one made of steel without even a barred a window, just a hinged one-inch grate with thick mesh over it at the bottom. Shoving her inside, the guard with the crossbow roughly ripped the ring off her finger and the door slammed closed behind her!  
  
Sarah stood there for about a minute, simply too stunned to move. It was pitch-black.  
  
…she was trapped in the dungeons of Castle Amber?! _How…why…that nasty little bitch!_ She suddenly thought: that phantom had led her down here on purpose, knowing full well that Sarah would be caught! And gotten out of the way…  
  
She screamed in frustration: how could she have been so stupid?! Ghost would find her in here eventually, of course – there was a good chance he had heard her shouting earlier – but if what those guards had said was true, even if Merlin’s computer construct could get in, there was still no way for her to get out of here! And now they knew she was here. Taking a deep breath, Sarah rekindled her small spirit-light (at least that still worked) and took a look around. Her surroundings were hardly inspiring: there was a fairly thick layer of fresh straw covering the entire stone floor. That was it – no chair, not even a rough mattress. Just a pile of straw on the floor in a small metal-plated room with a metal door that had just a big enough vent in the base to let in air. It didn’t get anymore medieval than this. And it didn’t smell too clean, either…  
  
_Oh, gross!_ The point of the straw had just dawned on her: it was both latrine and bedding material! Rationalizing that no one would be so crass as to do their business in the middle of the room, Sarah piled together some of the straw that had been close to the center and sat down on it, shivering; it was cool down here and she was still wet besides. It was too easy for her to get down on herself for being clumsy enough to walk straight into this one, and when she could have gone free, no less! Although her current negative thought pattern was almost preferable to the other remembered traumatic impression that briefly flitted through her panicked mind when she was initially shut in: the oubliette in the Labyrinth. At least there weren’t any skeletons in here – or at least any remains were swept out regularly with the other refuse. In this cell, anyway. She was too nervous to sit still and got up, beginning to pace the tiny space. What would they do with her belongings, with her trumps? What if they found the first ring and the pill? Was it all already in the dustbin or the fire? She had no idea what the procedure was with prisoners here, how long she would be held before anyone so much as deigned to look in on her. Let alone feed her – yikes. For one crazy moment she thought of whistling a few bars of ‘Chim-cheree’ just to see what would happen, but quickly decided against it; there were much better chances of someone here knowing odd snippets of Shadow Earth culture. She sat back down with a sigh, the sound of her voice, her breathing, echoing in the audio-reflective room.  
  
_Corwin_ , she suddenly thought dismally: how the heck was she ever supposed to help him when she couldn’t even keep herself at liberty for a week? Perhaps a more pertinent concern was what she should tell the king – taking for granted that she would ever be allowed to see him. Merlin had appeared surprisingly blasé about sharing the information of her mission here with the ‘other side’, which, in and of itself, upon thinking back, should have struck her as rather suspicious right away. It was either a great show of trust in her own ability (highly unlikely) or a disturbing level of trust in the honor of his ‘opposite number’ (even more unlikely.) Maybe Ghost understood his dad’s intentions here a bit more clearly.  
  
There was no way to keep track of time down here; Sarah honestly had no idea how much had passed by the time Ghost’s light zipped in through the grate in the door.  
  
“Thank goodness!” he whispered in her ear. “It wasn’t difficult to track your energy until I got to the rows of cells – this one’s heavily warded both inside and out and I didn’t feel you immediately upon passing this way.”  
  
“Where in Chaos were you?! I could’ve used a little help back there!” she whisper-screamed. “Weren’t you supposed to keep me safe?”  
  
“I’m sorry this had to happen to you, Sarah,” he genuinely apologized, “but I think I’m starting to actually piece together what’s really going on and why exactly you were sent here. This was a most necessary step.”  
  
Sarah’s anger was banking down a little already from curiosity. If there was a reason…. “Care to let me in on the secret? I mean, it looks like it’s my life on the line here.”  
  
“It’s only my own personal rough conjecture and I’d hate to plant a wrong impression in your head,” Ghost demurred. “Here” – and a thick, gray wool blanket dropped around her shoulders; she wrapped up in it tightly in spite of the scratchiness. “It’s one of the blankets they use in the more permanent cells; I’d fetch you fresh clothing but it would simply look too suspicious. Do you need anything else, though? Food or drink? The political prisoners do get reasonable amounts of daily rations, but it wouldn’t be for several hours yet and the guard who put you in here was just relieved; I can’t exactly manifest before his replacement and ask him to look after you well.”  
  
“…so a certain degree of magic does work in here?”  
  
“Only very limitedly – I can squeeze things in locally through the grate but you certainly can’t shadow-walk or shadow-pull yourself out of the cell, let alone bringing anything else in. Actually, these walls and the general darkness were designed as a much more ‘mundane’ arcane deterrent, if there truly is such a thing: it keeps people from being able to etch trumps or other devices into the surface of the walls, floor and ceiling. My granddad Prince Corwin famously escaped in this manner from a cell down the next hall.”  
  
Sarah smirked. “You know, the guys who threw me in here were terrified that I’d spontaneously turn into a monster on them; the Chaosian reputation certainly appears to precede one here.” Her smile dropped. “I suppose I am a bit thirsty.”  
  
“I’ll be right back. And try not to worry – that ring my dad gave you not only guarantees your freedom but that the king will see you today.”  
  
“I hope so; they took it.”  
  
“They had to show it to him so he knows it’s the real thing – those are my dad’s calling cards.”  
  
The light went out. Minutes later, a pewter plate piled with stale bread and dried meat slid through the grate, followed by a thin leather canteen of water. “I’m going to zip over to the inn quick to grab the rest of your money and place it in your bag; it’s highly unlikely that they’ll bother to search it again after digging through the contents so thoroughly the first time.”  
  
Sarah perked up. “You mean my stuff is actually safe?”  
  
“They took your arcane implements and your fake papers away someplace else – I’d be very surprised if my Uncle Random isn’t shown those as well in due course – but the leather carryall is just hung up on a big nail hammered into the wall right outside of your cell door. The other clothing that you purchased might be too tricky to confiscate openly, although I can try it if you want me to.”  
  
“Don’t bother,” Sarah sighed dejectedly. “Just come back soon; I’ve no idea how long we’ve got before somebody comes.”  
  
“I’d hazard a guess of at least an hour or more; the royals currently in the castle are about to be served luncheon upstairs. Plenty of time. Just take it easy and start practicing saying ‘your Majesty’ – Uncle Random doesn’t go in for a lot of the showier protocol, but he does insist on that much with seemingly hostile strangers. As long as you’re respectful and cooperative towards him, I honestly don’t think you need to fear him much – just keep in mind who and what he is. I’ll run.”  
  
Ghost hadn’t really needed to hurry; they had to wait for nearly four hours for any sign of life at all – and then it was just a guard bringing a flask of water. While Sarah did her best to rehearse under the rather primitive conditions, Ghost, with nothing better to do (and not about to leave his charge again) proceeded with some of his normal cataloging operations, running basic remote scans of the castle and its current inhabitants right from where he was, comparing them with the inestimable wealth of general knowledge he already possessed.  
  
“That is interesting,” he quietly stated out-of-the-blue after over two hours’ silence, catching Sarah off-guard.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Oh, I’ve just been running some calculations, adding the personal chronologies of the Royal House of Amber to my private database. I just came across a matching date in the births to one I already have from my other sources: His Majesty King Random Barimen and Lord Mandor Sawall were born in the same year, approximately 1850 A.D. in your Shadow-Earth-based time.”  
  
Sarah blinked. “But that doesn’t make any sense! I know King Random’s the youngest of Oberon’s kids but…oh, it has to do with the time-difference, doesn’t it?” she answered her own question.  
  
“Sort of. Lord Mandor traveled extensively in his youth also, which further complicates matters; it makes him already Random’s senior by about four centuries. But it goes beyond that. They were born in the same month, on the same day, possibly within less than an hour of each other.”  
  
Sarah’s eyes widened at the unbelievably immense, looming implication. “You’re not suggesting that…”  
  
“I’m not entirely certain that’s what it means; I’ll have to ask Dad about it when I get home. I do doubt that whatever it portends it’s simple coincidence – even their given first names are anagrams of each other in Thari – but how they may or may not be connected beyond that would be pure conjecture at this point. I decided to tell you this much because I am curious to see your initial reaction to and impression of Random; I must admit to having reservations about both individuals for completely different reasons; I am hardly an impartial witness. You have also spent considerably more time with Mandor than I ever have, and under much less antagonistic circumstances on the whole as well. I am slowly learning that, on occasion, irrational, instinctual human psychological responses can be far more informative than all the formulas and statistics in the worlds. I suppose it would’ve been a little less biased if I had not told you beforehand, but I thought it best to let you in on the experiment since you appear to be a vital part of it yourself.”  
  
Sarah looked at Ghost’s innocuous little ball of golden light with an almost dubious regard. “You really are learning operating behavior from these people, aren’t you?”  
  
“Did I do something wrong? Was it better to keep you in the dark?”  
  
“…no,” Sarah finally laughed, “although you may need to go elsewhere to learn a more normal code of ethics.”  
  
She was propped up by the back wall with her legs tucked in underneath the small blanket - trying to take a nap out of boredom - when she heard the metal door of her cell creak on its hinges and saw it swing open; there was a different guard with an unsheathed short sword standing there.  
  
“All right, on your feet,” he ordered.  
  
Sarah stiffly rose, throwing the blanket in an…unused corner; she still smelled sort of briny but at least she was dry again. The guard grabbed her carryall and marched her back down the hall to the open pillared section again, then to yet another thick wooden door with an iron-barred peephole – this opened briefly when he knocked, so whoever was inside could see them – then she was quickly ushered through the portal; the lock audibly fell heavily back into place behind her; there were two other guards already in the room. They had come into a large stone chamber with a rough-carved wooden table and a small wooden chair, facing several larger, heavier metal chairs with multiple restraints directly across from it, and an extensive collection of rather unsavory-looking devices hung up along the right wall in order of unpleasantness, starting with a simple riding crop.  
  
_The interrogation room_ , Sarah thought with an involuntarily shudder, then forced herself to calm down - she had been expressly ordered to cooperate; nothing would happen to her. She was strapped into the center chair that directly faced the table though, secured at the arms, legs and waist. She heard the door open behind her across the room.  
  
“Make them a little loose,” she heard a commanding, medium-tenor male voice say, “they can be tightened after.”  
  
“Yes, sire,” the guard who had just finished strapping the belts nodded, loosening them all by at least a couple of inches.  
  
Sarah’s eyes flashed wide in realization – the king was here! Hearing his thick-soled boots casually pacing towards her, her mind went flying in all directions, but she forced herself to breathe, trying to get her thoughts to settle in order.  
  
While she had gotten used to seeing his visage on nearly all of the local currency, Sarah had never once been told of his stature, so it was a little bit of a surprise. To be blunt, Random Barimen was relatively short for a scion of Oberon - only about five-foot-five or six she would guess, seeing him standing there, and lightly built besides; out of those cavalier-heeled boots he was probably only an inch taller than herself, if that! He had bright sandy-blonde hair and well-tanned, clean-shaven youthful-looking features that were only betrayed by a small smattering of age and worry lines (and not a little sun damage.) His personal dress code seemed to be late 17th century European minus any frills but very high on quality and ostentation, chiefly in brilliant reds and oranges with just a little brown leather. He wore no crown or diadem of any kind, but there could be absolutely no question that this was the King of Amber, Lord of the Order Shadows. In light of Ghost’s comments, Sarah couldn’t possibly imagine anyone more unlike Mandor Sawall – tall, pale, and quietly studious and deadly, with a relatively tasteful sense of humor to match – than this burnished, incendiary spark of a man who currently towered over her only because she was seated! But then she dared a quick glance up at his sky-blue eyes…and found that she knew the expression that they held all too intimately indeed. She immediately reverted her gaze to his knee-high natural leather boots.  
  
“I assume you know who I am,” he addressed her coldly - his Thari had the obvious Amberite accent but not as much as others she had heard here – “but I always make a point of learning just who and what I’m addressing. Shift now into your natural Chaosian form – you can’t possibly faze me in the least; I’ve seen all the types by now,” he put a kid-gloved hand to his hip.  
  
“But…this is my natural state,” Sarah answered a bit awkwardly, starting to worry a little anyway.  
  
Random forced a thin lip-smile. “Let’s try this again: if you expect me to in any capacity treat with you peaceably at this point, you’ll immediately comply with anything I order you to do. Now shift.”  
  
“But I can’t!” Sarah blurted, starting to panic in earnest as the king turned and commenced a leisurely stroll toward that ominous-looking wall, “I can disguise my outward appearance, but this really is what I naturally look like and I can’t think of a single thing I could say or do to possibly convince you-”  
  
“I will speak on her behalf – she truly scans human,” Ghost’s Merlin-voice sounded formally from above her, cutting her terrified rambling short.  
  
Random stopped in his tracks and turned back, dubious curiosity clearly written in his features, his pale eyes searching the emptiness in vain. “Ghostwheel, is that you? If it is, you’d better show yourself right this instant.”  
  
A shower of golden light appeared, hovering over Sarah – she saw the radiance, looked up and gasped: he had never manifested so completely; his outer rings were spinning gyroscopically, a myriad of doorways and shifting points of brilliant light. “Hello, Uncle,” he added a little sheepishly.  
  
Random quietly groaned with a small sigh, momentarily closing his eyes. “Tighten her restraints normally. Then you all may withdraw,” he suddenly addressed the guards; to a man they looked concerned but nevertheless did as they were bade, securing Sarah firmly to the chair, and, accompanied by a few assorted parting remarks of patriotic subservience, the door opened and closed again.  
  
“Now then,” the king paced back over with his hands clasped behind his back with the beginnings of a frowning smirk, “before we go any further with this farce – Ghost?” he looked up at the spinning entity.  
  
“Yes, your Majesty?”  
  
He gave a short laugh at that. “Nice entrance, by the way.”  
  
“Thank you; I’ve been working on it.”  
  
Random grabbed the wooden chair from the table and carried it over in front of Sarah, just five feet away, and set it down, seating himself backwards in it with his legs over the sides, his arms resting on the back. “Ghost,” he began again in an oddly scolding, parental tone, “I know you don’t disobey Merlin anymore and you were probably just following orders here, but you need to give your ‘dad’ a personal message from me: I understand that spying on Amber is a celebrated, age-old Chaosian tradition, but if the current king actually wants to play this shitty little game with me, he needs to stick to the historically accepted points of attempted of entry into Amber as established by his predecessor – the darkest portions of the Arden Forest, the skuzzy side of the waterfront, crawling up the back of Mount Kolvir. I cannot countenance him directly trumping spies inside my walls – you appreciate this makes me look bad,” he gestured to himself.  
  
“Sorry, Uncle; I’ll be sure and tell him.”  
  
“Good.” His gaze dropped to Sarah. “And as for you, regardless of who you are, you can best stay in my good graces by truthfully answering some relatively simple questions.” He took her phony paperwork out of a side pocket in his jacket that she hadn’t seen, unfolding it, glancing at the contents with a light snort and a headshake. “Let’s start with your real name.”  
  
“Sarah Marie Williams.”  
  
“Better. From where?”  
  
“Shadow Earth.”  
  
He looked back at her. “Where on Shadow Earth?”  
  
“America.”  
  
“Where?” he pressed. In English.  
  
Sarah was torn – he’d probably know immediately if she lied to his face, but if he knew her actual location her future use as an agent of Chaos would be severely hampered if not outright betrayed. No quarter would be granted by that intense, merciless stare. She exhaled, bowing her head in humiliation. “New York,” she answered quietly, hoping he wouldn’t ask for more.  
  
“It’s a wonderful town,” he replied in English with a note of humor; it didn’t read on his features though when she looked back up. “There. That wasn’t so hard,” he continued effortlessly in her mother-tongue, although his accent sounded somewhat older than Merlin’s. “Now, how did you come to be in the service of Chaos?” He had her trump pouch in hand and was carefully shuffling through its scant contents. “You appear to be unusually well-connected, to put it very mildly. Hello – what’s this?” He had just spotted the extra ring and the pill.  
  
“That ring was a kind of control device she unknowingly wore for many months,” Ghost chimed in. “My dad has rendered it harmless. The other item is emergency provisions; that was my idea.”  
  
The king’s eyebrows went up at the last part. “I don’t believe even I’ve ever been that desperate.”  
  
“Neither has she.”  
  
Random wryly smirked, putting them back. The trumps obviously troubled him, though; he lingered a moment over Suhuy’s before recasing it. “How did they recruit you?”  
  
“I wasn’t recruited…well, not by anybody directly, not like that, oh how to put it… I guess I was tricked into walking one of the imperfect Logri in a very roundabout fashion, by a rogue shadow-guy,” she barely eschewed mentioning Jareth by name. “I was mentally going to pieces immediately after and… I suppose they literally saved me. Got the problems mostly under control now.”  
  
“Who saved you?”  
  
Sarah’s gaze shifted to the king’s gloved hands, crossed in front of him on the back of the chair. “Lord Mandor Sawall and Lord Suhuy Swayvil. But chiefly Lord Mandor.”  
  
The king mused a moment, studying her. “You were under his influence for the better part of a year, I’d hazard, most likely either in the Courts or near them – and Lord Suhuy taught you about the Logrus.” It wasn’t a guess; it was a statement of fact. She nodded assent. “And, of course, the king knew all about this.”  
  
“He didn’t - he wasn’t even aware of my existence until just last week! He’s been very kind to me.”  
  
Random looked intrigued. “And how long have you been here in Amber?”  
  
“Today makes my fifth day.”  
  
A slow, impish grin spread across Random’s young face; apart from his eyes, he really didn’t look all that much older than Merlin, Sarah thought. It was odd.  
  
“He got you the hell out of Perdition. Fast.”  
  
“It would appear so.”  
  
“All right,” he straightened up, “here’s the big question, are you ready? Why did he send you specifically to Amber? What were you supposed to do here? I want to hear his instructions verbatim,” he tapped the back of the chair with his pointer finger to emphasize the point.  
  
Sarah hesitantly glanced up at Ghost, who was still hovering and shining above her like her own mechanical guardian angel.  
  
“Go ahead, Sarah,” he reassured her in rather mechanical-sounding English, “I think at least one of the hunches I had today is correct.”  
  
She nervously met the king’s eyes; his general demeanor had gradually changed during the course of the interrogation from direly serious and almost threatening to nearly amused.  
  
“Mer- I mean, his Excellency,” she rapidly corrected herself, “is convinced that my original must have at least one Amberite parent…of the blood of-”  
  
“The royal line,” Random cut her off with a sigh. “Why am I not surprised? Our late liege apparently had all the self-control of a dog in heat, and I suppose his children aren’t always perfectly careful, either,” he added with a sad half-smile. “If the claim turns out to be true, she’d be another illegitimate and nobody will want to own up. But why does he even think this? Surely other Orderers have walked the copies of the Logrus and lived – even the broken versions of the Pattern occasionally allow for this.”  
  
Sarah shook her head. “I’m the only one as far as anybody knows. The stable Logri are progressively more perilous then the real deal, and I walked the worst of them and made it through with almost no permanent damage. I know there’s nothing particularly exciting arcane-wise about either of my birth parents. And Lord Mandor confirmed early on that there were dozens of…me,” she swallowed uncomfortably, “the closer he got to Amber.”  
  
“The evidence you’ve got to work with would certainly seem to point in that direction,” Random conceded. “That little bit of extraneous legwork on Lord Mandor’s part was just his locating you?”  
  
Sarah nodded. “And finding a double to take my place at home so nobody would know I was gone.”  
  
He scrutinized her a moment. “That’s still quite a peculiar course of action on the part of the Logrus.”  
  
“That’s what his Excellency thought – if the Logrus was that desperate to get me, what the heck is my original up to?”  
  
“That actually might be worth worrying over a little. You were both obviously sent here covertly to find her. Have you yet succeeded in locating any evidence of her?”  
  
“Not concrete, but I’ve seen this phantom of her twice now – the first time was outside of a shop on Temple Street, and the second was just this morning; she came into the sea caves and we gave chase. I had almost closed in on her using the Logrus when I accidentally literally ran into one of your guards instead,” Sarah colored a little, embarrassed. “That’s why I’m here.”  
  
Random looked confused. “But Merlin knows the terms of the Concord as well as I do; he added his signature to the document upon his coronation, for crying out loud! Neither of us holds captured enemy spies anymore unless they’re actively committing crimes or seriously disturbing the peace. And you were actually told to make a point of seeing me if you were caught! What were his specific instructions concerning this?”  
  
Sarah swallowed. “That I was to answer any questions you may have,” she stated as definitively as she could.  
  
It wasn’t definitive enough. “And?” The king made a revolving motion with his right hand, like ‘keep it coming.’  
  
It was so humiliating. She closed her eyes. “But not to offer more information than you asked for.”  
  
Random was silent for a beat or two as the full implications of her predicament set in and he openly had a good laugh at her expense. Sarah’s face flushed with shame; the operation was a total failure.  
  
“You’re no spy,” he said at length once he’d recovered himself.  
  
She still couldn’t look at him. “His Majesty has made that point clear enough,” she answered civilly but bitterly. She would never hear the end of this from Merlin. She would never, never be given another assignment. Maybe Ghost could just make like she’d been taken prisoner or something so she wouldn’t have to talk to him directly – any story was better than this horrible fiasco!  
  
“You’re a royal messenger,” he stated far more warmly; Sarah looked at him, clearly confused - he was genuinely smiling now without a trace of mockery! “And of course he couldn’t tell you, although you must concede that certain abuses are a universal hazard of the job.”  
  
And the king of Amber rose, stepped around the chair, crossed the short distance between them and stooped to unbuckle her restraints himself! At this close of proximity, she could tell that he smelled lightly of… cigarettes?!  
  
“I’m a messenger?!” she repeated incredulously to Ghost.  
  
“I told you I wasn’t sure, but it seemed to add up toward the end there. I realized that there were huge holes in the story you’d been given, even with how much material you were successfully making up on the spot, really basic stuff you simply had never been briefed on – very peculiar. And I had further suspicions after a couple days went by, but I didn’t want to say anything in case I was wrong. I’m almost relieved I was right; you and I alone aren’t big enough to conduct this sweep – as you yourself stated, she could be anywhere!”  
  
“But why couldn’t he just tell me?!” If she hadn’t been irritated before…  
  
The king stood back up – she was free. “Do you have any idea of just how difficult it is for my dear nephew the King of Chaos to get any word to me at all without immediately alerting his entire Counsel and half the Courts, with all of them screaming sedition against their genuinely well-meaning and highly idealistic leader? Sometimes I truly wonder just who is really in power out there; I swear it seems like the boy’s under house arrest in the Thelbane – they almost never let him leave it anymore! This was literally the best he could manage to warn me of any possible danger and you yourself are an integral part of that message. Ghost, did you ever get a clear energy signature reading on whatever-it-was that you were chasing?”  
  
“No – it was a faint frequency to start out with, but once I was within decent range I finally realized why: it was made using a magical damper system, the signature was deliberately blurred. She just vanished out of existence right in the middle of a hallway - totally untraceable. I can tell you with certainty that it isn’t anything of my dad’s construction, but whoever’s doing this is definitely a pro.”  
  
“Which could still point to the Courts,” Random ruminated, “but I guess we can’t say that for sure. At least its not officially sanctioned activity; if nothing else, Merlin’s covering himself so as not to endanger the peace or his subjects. Can you just show me what she looks like?”  
  
“Sure.” Ghost’s light suddenly condensed into a ring a foot in diameter; inside was the glowing image of the girl’s face! He floated down beside Sarah so the king could see them side-by-side. “That was the best I could capture; she didn’t even photograph well.”  
  
Random nodded. “Well, there are a few steps I can take without broadcasting this to the world at large. I’ll have the guard doubled at the Patterns we govern and warn Queen Moire in Rebma to be on guard also, and I can have our own spies search for the girl within the Golden Circle, possibly further as I deem it necessary. This should please your liege; you can report back that much from me. If he honestly thinks this may be a real threat I’m willing to treat it as one, albeit quietly. Now, was that it? Was there anything else pertinent that I need to know? Either of you?” he glanced between the two of them. “Remember, as far as Merlin is concerned, you’re an open book,” he pointed at Sarah with an almost teasing expression – except he was dead serious.  
  
“Only a wild theory or two,” Ghost responded in Thari, “that I’d rather confirm before making definitive statements that might result in grand libel charges against me.”  
  
Random laughed again. “I suppose I’ll have to let that slide for now.” Going to the table, he picked up Sarah’s carryall and brought it back but did not give it to her; he presented her with her trump deck, however, along with her brooch – he had had it secreted away in a hidden pocket in his shirt.  
  
“Don’t lose this again,” he nodded toward the charged artifact, “I took the liberty of examining it with the ruby you were probably taught to call the Left Eye of the Serpent, what we in Amber call the Jewel of Judgment. That seemingly worthless trinket carries a surprising store of power, but I think it may be a one-time-use item. You wore that through the Fixed Logrus?”  
  
Sarah nodded.  
  
“Guard it well and be very careful when the time comes to use it.”  
  
“Thank you, your Majesty; I will,” she said, pinning it safely back inside the top of her oceany-smelling dress. The king gave her a hand up and actually put his right arm around her shoulders, leading her toward the door. Aside of the difference in height, this mannerism, too, was eerily familiar; Ghost shrank back down to his normal, compact size and followed them.  
  
“Alright,” Random said, “this is the part where I have to make a big production out of you leaving – it’s expected of me. I’ll have you transported by armored carriage to the northernmost border of the Arden Forest and from there you must walk away into Shadow on your own; I know you probably can’t do the Chaosian shadow-pull-through physically with your unchangeable form. Ghost, do you think you could manage that visual for the benefit of my soldiers?”  
  
“I can try to make it look like that if I’m allowed to directly trump her away from there afterwards.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
They were all of three feet from the door when the king stopped and pulled a pair of modern-looking handcuffs out from behind his belt; he showed them to her. “I do have to at least cuff you – you being at physical liberty as you currently are simply looks too suspicious. Turn around.”  
  
Sarah did so and felt Random’s thin, gloved hands grab one wrist, then the other, locking the cuffs on over the fabric at the end of her sleeves, crossing her arms behind her back.  
  
“They have to be tight like that, but having the cloth between should protect your wrists from getting rubbed raw. Do they hurt at all?”  
  
“No.”  
  
He turned her back around by her arms. “Safe journeys, wherever that may be, Sarah,” he warmly smirked. “I expect to never see you or any other version of you darkening my fair City ever again. Thanks for the warning. Now get out.”  
  
“Yes, your Majesty,” she curtsied awkwardly, trying not to laugh.  
  
“Straight faces,” he warned; Ghost vanished as he unlocked the door and opened the heavy portal, roughly grabbing Sarah by the wrists. “Guard!” he yelled in Thari.  
  
One immediately came running. “Yes, sire?”  
  
“I’ve gotten all the information I can out of this one – she’s just a petty pawn. Don’t waste my time with these ones! Take the prisoner to the north edge of the Arden. Make sure that she leaves Amber.”  
  
“It will be done, sire. Right you – come on!”  
  
Sarah was surrounded by guards again and force-marched at crossbow-point across the open area over to a spiral stone staircase that was corkscrew-tight. She and four guards ascended, two in front and two in back of her so she couldn’t escape. Not that there was much danger of that happening in here – she hadn’t been anywhere this cramped and musty since that servant’s tunnel in the Ways of Sawall! At least this structure seemed sturdy and not under extreme attack by the elements. Up, up, up - there seemed to be no end to it, and neither would they allow her any rest. By the time she gained surface-level in the castle proper, both the back of Sarah’s throat and her legs were burning from the exertion, and yet they marched her on, down a thin side hallway. For just a second she caught the briefest glimpse of an immense feasting hall with long tables and bright heraldic banners strung up all along the ceiling before she was herded through what must’ve been one of the in-house military barracks. She did her best to ignore the rude comments and the openly appraising, mocking stares – including the first aging guard who had spoken to her upon her arrival! His eyes went wide as she passed by, but she said nothing, almost feeling sorry for him; he would take this inadvertent slip-up as a poor reflection on his skills, but there was nothing for it. At least she hadn’t ripped anybody off as far as she knew: she’d given real silver to the bank and her bill at the inn had been paid in advance.  
  
The inn! They would worry about what had happened to her! Sarah felt especially guilty leaving Láre hanging like that - the girl had been genuinely nice to her – but there was no helping that situation. She was technically an enemy spy and now she was being treated as one, even though she had been initially welcomed as a friend sight-unseen. This didn’t sit well either, but presently a large reinforced door opened, and she was trudged out into a walled gravel courtyard where the aforementioned armored carriage was waiting for her; the door in the back already standing open. The vehicle had to be heavy because a team of horses was hitched up to it, not just one or two. She was practically shoved inside and the metal door was audibly padlocked behind her. The only window/air grate was in said door, small and barred over, just enough for ventilation. The ‘carriage’ was really just a big metal box with low metal benches built into the sides, nothing to hang onto. She resolved to sit on the floor with her back to the left ‘bench’, trying to prop herself steady with her feet against the other – at least she wouldn’t be in danger of knocking her head against the walls if the road got bumpy.  
  
Sarah’s instinct was dead-on, although she changed positions for a while, facing forward in the center in the dark enclosure: they were steadily trotting downhill and the going was rather steep in places. Oh, for a window! Looking back, she could still see that gorgeous, alien blue sky – the Amber sky – and she did her best to burn the hue into her memory. It genuinely saddened her to be leaving such a place in this fashion; if only there had been more time! She would have loved to see the countryside, the outlying rural areas in all of their rustic, old-world splendor. It was almost unthinkable that she had become a state-recognized adversary of Order, of all this tranquil beauty and peaceful commerce, normal healthy life as she knew it. Her very existence was perceived as a dire threat to that stability. Even being born of Order, she couldn’t ever belong here. Not now. Amber might not have been heaven but it certainly felt akin to getting kicked out of-  
  
“Sarah!” Ghost whisper-shouted; his light was as faint as he could make it, hovering in the front-left corner toward the ceiling, where it would be harder for the mounted guard riding behind to see inside.  
  
“I don’t suppose you could get me a pillow?” she asked in Thari – he seemed more comfortable speaking that language. “My tailbone’s getting sore already.”  
  
“Sorry, this thing’s warded, too – security has actually really improved here since the last time I had occasion to visit.”  
  
“Good for them,” Sarah replied sarcastically.  
  
The carriage suddenly stopped and Ghost winked out; Sarah could hear talking outside for a moment but then they started moving again.  
  
“That was the far gate,” Ghost explained, coming back, “it’s always manned now. We’ll gain the forest shortly.” They probably could’ve spoken at normal volume; between the clatter of the carriage and the pounding of the many horse-hooves of the company, the extraneous noise would have drowned out their voices. “What did you think of King Random? Was there anything at all that was familiar to you?”  
  
“I think you’re onto something so big I can’t even get my head around it! That was just plain freaky! I mean, there wasn’t that much – only a couple of mannerisms – but what there was! I probably would’ve spotted more if we’d gotten to stick around. Have you found anymore extreme-spectrum pairs like this?”  
  
“Nope – just this one so far.”  
  
“Huh,” Sarah frowned. “I hate to think it might portend anything bad for your dad – he seems like a really good guy.”  
  
“I know, that was the very first thing I thought of, too. I wanted to make sure the impression wasn’t just me.”  
  
The ground the carriage was bumping and rolling over was starting to level out more-or-less, and Sarah scootched sideways again so she could see out of the grate. It still afforded precious little view – it was far too small – but the tiny amount of light that was filtering through now had a distinct green tinge to it: the dense canopy of the Arden had to be directly above them. She could just make out the gold-outlined leaves of a specific phylum of tree distantly related to Earth-oak; that species grew here and nowhere else, intermittently mixed with more recognizable deciduous and evergreen trees. There was no mistaking the extreme verdancy: this was certainly the forest from her dream in the Ways of Sawall, but even that vision had lacked the intense, almost incense-like aroma of the true place, blended with the organic smell of life and death in the first forest in the world. Sarah closed her eyes a moment and breathed deep – the bars couldn’t keep that out. She reflected that she would give a lot to be able to come back here someday, even if it was just for a very brief time, but chances were she’d never be allowed to come back at all; there was probably a price on her head now, for all she knew.  
  
The unmistakable hunting horn of Prince Julian’s company suddenly sounded from not far off; the carriage stopped again and there came and went the sound of many horses galloping swiftly by along with the baying and barking of hounds, surrounding them briefly on their way to somewhere – there was no way for her to gauge the actual direction of their travel from inside here. Once there was silence again the journey resumed.  
  
Sarah’s shoulders were starting to ache from the way she was sitting, with her arms forced behind her like that, but at least she was grateful for the way the king had secured her wrists. She might have a little rugburn afterwards, but if that and a bit of bruising on her behind were the total sum damage she sustained from this crazy excursion, she knew she should count herself incredibly lucky. The light filtering in was getting brighter once more; the forest had to be thinning. They might’ve driven through it for anywhere from twenty to forty minutes, she couldn’t rightly tell; time in general would seem to slip away in this primeval place even for one not in a locked box. Soon the sky was clear again, the scent of the Arden completely gone – was it just her or was that blue dome above them just a smidgeon faded now? The carriage was slowing down.  
  
“Summon your Logrus in the glove-tendril form when it’s time and straighten your arms out in front of you – I’ll handle the rest,” she heard Ghost whisper into her right ear. Seconds later the carriage stopped altogether and the door swung open; she squinted from the sudden change in light.  
  
“On your feet!” the soldier just outside ordered; Sarah could now see that these were not the men who had escorted her out of the castle – they must’ve arrived after she had been locked in, possibly even changed guard from the far gate. “Come here!”  
  
Sarah stiffly did so with some difficulty (without the use of her arms) and nearly stumbled as she disembarked, but the soldier caught her by the arms to steady her, looking down on her in clear disapproval. Taking her by her left upper arm, he walked her to the front of the company; counting the carriage driver there were five of them altogether.  
  
They had come into a wasteland as desolate and dreary as any of the alkaline desert worlds Mandor had driven her through on the way to Chaos: tan rocks, tan earth, and a piercing pale-blue sky with a warm golden sun, but no signs of any life. The soldier with her grabbed her wrists and unlocked the cuffs, freeing her. A quick glance behind confirmed that she was currently being covered by crossbow again via a mounted soldier a few paces back; the man removed her carryall bag from his saddlebag and tossed it to the soldier beside her, who looked none too pleased but nevertheless gave it back to her without any ado.  
  
“Start shadow-walking or shadow-pulling or whatever it is you do to travel in that direction,” he pointed off into the hostilely sterile wilderness.  
  
Sarah donned her bag and took one step, and then another… but the memory of that haunting horn in the woods called her back. She stopped.  
  
“Did they catch the dangerous beast that was in the Arden?” she suddenly asked without turning around; she heard the tightening of strings behind her.  
  
“And what interest is if of yours?” the soldier in front gruffly replied.  
  
“Just curious. Nevermind,” she sighed, walking away.  
  
“They caught it last night,” the man unexpectedly answered, “and Prince Julian hewed its great ugly head off as a trophy. A fell shadow-beast not native to Order that came within range of some the outlying farms. You can take that much back as a warning: there is no provision in the Concord for violent threats or even passive second-time offenders. If you are ever foolish enough to return to Amber, nay, the Golden Circle, you shall yourself be hunted. Be gone, child of darkness!”  
  
Sarah took a few more steps away from the small troop. “Ready?” she barely breathed without moving her lips.  
  
“Ready,” Ghost confirmed every bit as quietly.  
  
Sarah summoned up her version of the Logrus – and heard a couple of distinct gasps from behind her. Smirking, she willed the tendrils about her fingers, her hands, her upper arms, and held her arms out straight in front of her…  
  
…And suddenly found herself in a desert with deep-azure dunes all around and a bright-pink sun overhead! Downhill from where she currently stood, there appeared to be a small oasis. Sarah banished the Logrus.  
  
“Where are we?” she asked Ghost.  
  
“In one of the safer shadows between Amber and Shadow Earth; I thought this would give you adequate privacy to trump my dad and to soak and rest when you’re through; you looked pretty worn out.”  
  
“That’s potable water down there?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Thanks,” she sighed, opening her leather trump pouch (which now had a faint tinge of nicotine – Random) and shuffled out Merlin’s card. “I’m not sure I can make it from this far away. Would you mind giving the connection a little power boost?”  
  
“No problem.”  
  
Sarah brought the card up to eye-level and its principle flared to life almost instantly. But he was in his power-form; she had nearly started to forget just how mentally jarring it could be, seeing that kind of thing. He marked her presence immediately but didn’t address her right away; she well-noted his dark, glassy surroundings.  
  
“I have a private call,” the King of Chaos announced rather formally, “everyone take a short recess.” There were the unmistakable sounds of scooting chairs and shuffling feet for several seconds – then Merlin commenced shifting down into his humanoid form.  
  
“What in the worlds are you amplifying this call with Sarah? The Jewel of Judgment?” he laughed through his changing features.  
  
“Ghost’s helping me out; I don’t know what sources he uses – you’ve never told me, your Excellency. Sort of like you chose not to tell me you were planning on setting me up.”  
  
Merlin’s visage turned serious as his face finally stabilized. “Sarah, I’m going to trump-call you back from my end; when you see me in your mind’s eye, sever the connection on your trump of me. I want for you to be able to have this conversation with me without the distraction of the card.”  
  
_Whoa._ He didn’t seem angry but maybe she should have phrased that thought a heck of a lot more tactfully, Sarah thought worriedly, seeing him produce his trump of her…and then seeing him face-to-face, the outside world temporarily shut out completely by the immense power behind his call. “Sorry,” she nervously added.  
  
He exhaled with a warm lip-smile. “I can barely speak of it now just because of where I currently am,” he gestured about himself without looking away, “but it was unfortunately necessary. You would have acted far more suspicious had you known and I had hoped to give you a little breathing space in the City beforehand. Did you find anything?”  
  
“Sort of, maybe, but I think Ghost would probably do a much better job of explaining it. There was this weird phantom girl – a construct of some kind – that baited us into following it and I wound up right in the dungeon-”  
  
“Don’t say any more!” Merlin warned…then smiled. “You did well, then. Any message back for me? Be deliberately vague.”  
  
“…he’s taking the situation seriously,” Sarah answered carefully, “but Ghost has a separate message for you that’s a lot more… explicit.”  
  
The King of Chaos laughed briefly at that. “He hasn’t changed a bit. Doesn’t he know that I’m supposed to be the nicer, kinder, more relatable representative of the ‘dark side’? Oh well,” he sighed with a smile. “Did you at least get to have a nice time there up until that point?”  
  
“Yes, thank you; I wish I could’ve stayed longer.” There were tears standing in her eyes. “I’ll never forget it.”  
  
He nodded in understanding. “You deserved to see that place once. I’m sorry it could only be under those circumstances, but I couldn’t send you there any more freely. Do you understand?”  
  
“I think so,” she quietly answered, “I…I just wish…”  
  
“What is it, Sarah?”  
  
She stopped, then shook her head. “It’s stupid,” she waved off the sentiment.  
  
“I know you didn’t choose this path for yourself,” Merlin offered sympathetically. “I wish there was some way I could let you be a Patterner also, but there isn’t. You’ll start to feel a little better about it once you’ve been home again for a few weeks and had a chance to settle back into your normal life; the Logrus shouldn’t bother you at all unless you’re using it at this point.”  
  
“If you don’t count constantly feeling Her in the background bothersome,” Sarah laughed a little uneasily. “I guess it should be like any other stimuli you’re overexposed to – you sort of stop noticing it after a while.”  
  
Merlin suddenly looked very worried. “You’re telling me you actually sense the presence of the Logrus constantly?”  
  
Sarah nodded. “Since day one. I mean, thankfully She’s not as invasive as She used to be for the most part, but She’s still there, sort of lurking in the back of my mind.”  
  
Merlin’s eyes were wide by now. “What does it feel like?”  
  
“Kind of a cold, alien amusement most of the time, although there was this one time that She prevented me from getting too close to a small Unicornian shrine in Amber; hope it doesn’t carry over any at home – that could get awkward somewhere down the road, especially if I ever get married,” she laughed a little.  
  
“Why didn’t you say anything about this to anyone?!”  
  
“I thought it was normal! You’re telling me you never feel Her like that?”  
  
Merlin gravely shook his head. “And there was no way for you to know,” he muttered to himself, looking thoughtful. “I’ll speak with Lord Suhuy on your behalf; he should have some ideas of how to lull your Serpent better when She is not being called upon, or at least a relatively safe long-term spell you can employ to keep from sensing Her every waking moment – no wonder you were going crazy! Don’t worry; we’ll fix this. With any luck you might hear back from me again as soon as this evening your time; try to be alone for the call, but if you’re not when I contact you, you’ll need to make up any plausible excuse you can and get to someplace private, even if it’s a closet. Have a writing implement and some paper on hand; I’ll probably be giving you fairly complicated step-by-step instructions in either event.”  
  
“Sarah,” she suddenly heard Ghost without seeing him, “remember what you wanted to talk to him about, the existential side of your continuance as both a Chaos initiate and a Shadow Earthling.”  
  
“I think he’s a little busy for that right now,” she replied quietly.  
  
“Is that Ghost you’re talking to?” Merlin asked with a growing smile.  
  
“Yeah – reminding me to bring up something related that’s been sort of bothering me on a personal level. Nothing that can’t wait.”  
  
He nodded. “I think I know what it is. We’ll have a good heart-to-heart this evening; you can get your worries and concerns off your chest. Was there anything else of immediate importance? I don’t mean to rush you like this but I’m right in the middle of a Council session; they’re all waiting just outside in the hall.”  
  
“Ghost has something different he wants to relate to you as well, but he wants to do it in person. I think that was it. Oh,” she hesitated, “your…uncle…thinks you might be under house arrest in the Thelbane – his words,” she quickly qualified. “It came off equal parts concern and joking.”  
  
The High King raised his eyebrows at the comment, then gave a bitter smile.  
  
“He may hold a certain point; I have yet to truly exert my authority as a despot, but the legal situation has always been more delicate and complicated out here – far more powerful players - albeit, the late High King held no compunction against acting as one. I guess I’m just not used to using the perks that come with the power yet. He should be grateful his opposite number is more concerned with bureaucracy than with acting the part.”  
  
“That was the implied concern – that you were being kept busy enough that you wouldn’t even think to.”  
  
Merlin sighed. “For having no eyes or ears within the Thelbane proper, his guesses are almost depressingly astute sometimes. If that was all, I’m going to let you go for now. Let me pull my connections; I should have some answers for you in a few hours. Until later, Sarah.”  
  
“Good day, your Excellency,” she curtsied where she stood. The blue dunes abruptly reappeared and she blinked a few times. Merlin was gone.  
  
“I suppose we need to hurry now,” Ghost commented, “I’m not certain of how time passes in this place.”  
  
“We’ve got time,” Sarah reassured him, “and I don’t plan on being here all day anyway.” On a whim, she bent and scooped up a small handful of the exquisitely blue sand, pouring it into one of the small side-pockets in her carryall as she walked down to the oasis. Really, this probably wasn’t such a bad idea; if she came home reeking of the ocean her parents were bound to get suspicious of where she’d been. At least she could rinse out the worst of it here. Meandering through the hardy, arid-climate alien flora, she came to the water’s edge and, kneeling and cupping it in her hands, drank deep a couple times before starting to remove her shoes and dress. And noticed that Ghost was still right there, hovering close by; she stopped.  
  
“Would you mind terribly not watching me, please?”  
  
“Sorry, Sarah – I forgot. Rest assured, my only interest in any humanoid form is strictly scientific; you needn’t concern yourself. I can go catalog the flora if it would put you more at ease, but I really don’t want to leave you alone out here – this shadow is far from deserted, although its inhabitants are sparse. This outpost is fairly remote.”  
  
_There are people here?!_ “I’ll hurry,” Sarah answered decisively, quickly stripping and slipping into the cool, spring-fed pool, submerging herself to wash the sand out of her hair. Upon surfacing again, she grabbed her peasant dress off the shore and did her best to roughly rinse it out. Even in spite of the saltwater, her cheap-looking brooch was certainly holding up well, proof-positive of what it had become. The fresh, clean water felt so good – naked, she could now see that she did have a few incidental bruises but nothing serious, nothing that couldn’t be hidden until it healed – but she really didn’t have much time to luxuriate here, not if she could be discovered at any given moment; she assumed Ghost would give some kind of a signal if there was trouble, though.  
  
Ghost. She took another plunge, sneaking a look underneath this time: the pool ran surprisingly deep, down into some kind of dark, subterranean cavern she had no intention of exploring. She broke surface again.  
  
“Ghost!”  
  
“What is it, Sarah?” she heard him call from across the oasis.  
  
“Do you think you could find me some dry clothes?” she swam to shore’s edge.  
  
“Of course,” his light darted closer. “What did you have in mind? Something like the clothing you had to leave behind in Amber?”  
  
The gears in Sarah’s head were working overtime. “Actually, if it wouldn’t be too difficult, I’d rather have a utilitarian Chaosian suit like the one your dad initially put together for me – one of those Sawall-blue tunic-blouses with the black breeches and black leather boots.”  
  
“And utilitarian undergarments to go with them, I suppose?”  
  
“Yes,” she laughed.  
  
“I’m deliberately not looking at you – you’d better catch this,” he warned; Sarah just had enough time to stand up and lunge for the parcel – it was wrapped in a think, undyed terrycloth bath towel.  
  
“Thanks,” she staggered back onshore, wrapping up in the towel as she got out; she was definitely going to be sore from that stupid carriage ride. At least her wrists bore no marks; Random had been on top of that. Jumbled impressions of her recent past and potential future pushed and shoved at each other as she hurriedly dressed in what had become her heraldic colors (that thought was sort of distracting, too), but she couldn’t afford to reminisce right now – too much was at stake. How to go about even asking him?  
  
She had just finished tucking in her blouse when Ghost beat her to the punch. “Were you able to resolve that personal problem you mentioned to me before, or would you finally be willing to accept some assistance?”  
  
She looked up at him. “I really wish I could take you up on that,” she said, rolling her sopping-wet dress up into the towel, strapping the leather trump pouch onto her hip hollister-style again; it felt natural having it there by now. “In fact, I don’t see much of a way around it, to be perfectly honest. The problem is I don’t want to gainsay your orders from your dad. Did he tell you to take me straight home after we were done in Amber?”  
  
“Without any unnecessary delay, by the safest route possible,” he confirmed.  
  
“Figures,” she sighed.  
  
“You desired to go somewhere else? Where? Why?”  
  
Sarah paused. “I can’t answer that question without you answering the first: would you be willing to make a relatively short-duration detour? I promise it would be for a really good cause, not just screwing around.”  
  
Ghost was silent for a moment. “I can tell your concern is sincere, but you said before that it might involve my dad.”  
  
“Not necessarily, not if it’s handled right. You’d actually be doing him a great service, I think.”  
  
“Doing what?” he queried carefully.  
  
“Would you be willing?” Sarah pressed, hoping to use his loyalty to her advantage.  
  
It backfired. “I’m sorry, Sarah, but Uncle Random was correct: I don’t disobey my dad anymore. He’s saved my life more than once now; I owe him my loyalty. I can still speak to him privately about whatever the trouble is on your behalf, if that would help; he’s spent a lot of time unriddling problems that seemed insoluble on the surface. Would you at least trust me enough to tell me? I promise no ears will hear it but his own.”  
  
Sarah sighed, closing her eyes. It wouldn’t work. “That’s the one thing I can’t do, and I guess I can’t explain it either, then. Thanks awfully for trying, though; I know this was awkward and I know you’re going to worry anyway, but please don’t tell him about this; it’ll only cause trouble and he’s not in any right now because…” The thought fell apart – there was simply no good way to end it without giving away too much.  
  
“I think you’re in way over your head, Sarah,” Ghost stated seriously with a note of concern.  
  
“That makes two of us,” she laughed a little humorlessly, grabbing her bag, hefting the towel-wrapped dress and her sturdy-but-inadequately-cushioned peasant shoes under her arm. “You can take me home, then. I’m ready.”  
  
Ghost’s golden light instantly expanded into a large, thin hollow ring, coming down around her to the ground; it looped over her, covering her like a dome, and when it circled down again she was standing in her own room; Shara was there doing her homework on the bed and it looked like the girl nearly had a heart attack upon seeing Sarah appear like that, her eyes and jaw open wide!  
  
“Don’t be scared, it’s just me,” Sarah reassured her as Ghost collapsed down to his normal size.  
  
“What?!” Shara asked, clearly confused.  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry!” Sarah immediately apologized in English, laughing, “I’d actually forgotten. Wow. Going to have to practice so I don’t keep slipping into that.”  
  
Shara got up, cautiously padding over in her socks, examining Sarah’s vaguely exotic-looking clothing.  
  
“Oh my gosh, it really is you!” she exclaimed, closing the short distance and giving Sarah a big hug – then suddenly stopped, pulling back. “Oh no – this means I have to go home now, doesn’t it? And just when I was starting to get the hang of being you, too! Are you sure you wouldn’t rather take my life? Or find another fairy prince to screw around with? That was darned fast! And what,” she uneasily glanced over at the hovering little ball of golden light up by the ceiling next to the closet, “is that?”  
  
“I believe I am supposed to be your transport also, Miss,” Ghost said in his nicest mimic of his dad’s voice, albeit in computer-sounding English; his lack of pronunciation practice with the language really showed.  
  
“Don’t let it do it!” Shara pleaded with Sarah. “Call off Tinkerfella! I wanna stay!”  
  
“Ghost,” Sarah addressed him in Thari, “how far away is Shara’s shadow-world from here? Could the distance be safely walked?”  
  
“By you, you mean?”  
  
Sarah nodded. “I’d like the chance to talk with her – to catch up – before she has to go. I literally met her the day I left and I’d like to get to know her a little better, to see her impressions of life here from an outsider’s point-of-view. I believe you were in a hurry to return home yourself?”  
  
There was just enough truth to the request: she would walk Shara home – later. Much later.  
  
“She’s from five shadows closer to Amber,” Ghost warned. “You’d have to have very definitive landmarks to make it there and back at your present level of expertise, but I suppose it’s possible.”  
  
“Would you mind figuring out the route for me, please? This is something I’d really like to do.”  
  
Ghost regarded her silently for several seconds; Sarah could swear she felt his mechanical scrutiny.  
  
“If you promise to be very careful,” he finally pronounced, “and to trump for help immediately if you get lost.”  
  
“I promise,” Sarah consented.  
  
“I’ll be back soon,” he said in his more normal conversational tone and vanished.  
  
Sarah practically collapsed into her old stuffed chair in relief with a sigh, momentarily closing her eyes.  
  
“What in the world,” Shara knelt beside her, “is going on? What the heck just happened back there?”  
  
Sarah opened her eyes and glanced down at Shara with a slow smirk. “I’m not sending you home – not just yet, anyway. I’m not done running around out there.”  
  
“Yes! Aw, you’re the best!” the girl exploded with delight, giving Sarah another impromptu hug.  
  
“Hey, easy does it! I just got this ensemble out of nowhere,” Sarah teased her, making a show of straightening her dark blue blouse, setting the towel roll aside on the floor.  
  
“Wow, you really were away! You have to tell me all about it! I’m totally gonna make you dish on this guy. I’m only sorry it was over so fast. What was it like out there?”  
  
Sarah seriously considered how best to answer her. “Weird,” she finally laughed, “and it really wasn’t that quick – I stayed nearly a year at his place and got kind of an education in the meantime, had to learn the language and everything.”  
  
“I’ll bet,” Shara smiled conspiratorially, then stopped. “Wait a minute – isn’t that time-difference thing supposed to be the other way around? It is in the stories.”  
  
“You actually bothered to read my books! Did you like any of them?”  
  
“Not really, just not my taste; I prefer thrillers. I figured reading your stuff was just part of studying up for my role here,” she looked at Sarah a little sideways, “but I’m interrupting – go on.”  
  
“Well, as for the guy, he wasn’t so much a fairy prince as he was an out-and-out sorcerer. I got to see lots of bizarre places in transit on the way to his demesne, but once I got there, he… sort of kept me under lock and key – it wasn’t as bad as it sounds,” she quickly added, seeing Shara’s concern, “I had access to his library and fencing room, and had accompanied excursions out after a while. He actually made me a small world for my own amusement. But he was definitely a control freak. And his cooking was fabulous.”  
  
“Hello? Earth to Sarah?” Shara waved a hand in front of her face. “Have you not read your own books lately? You totally ate their food! Don’t tell me you’re going to waste away from withdrawal now!”  
  
“No, he deliberately kept the addictive substance to a minimum,” she smiled a bit wanly; milk chocolate would never satisfy again - she wondered if even unsweetened baking squares would. “Although he did sort of magically cheat on occasion, making one flavor or another stronger, or just plain good enough that you literally couldn’t stop eating whatever it was. Food is legitimately his one mundane hobby – well, that and reading, I suppose, but I’m not really sure how much of that one’s casual entertainment.”  
  
“Okay,” Shara was obviously really getting into this, “so he locked you up, fed you exquisite meals, read to you in exotic locales, probably taught you how to make love in his own language, and got you started fencing on the side – so what went wrong? Were you just a passing crush? Was there another sorceress?”  
  
“Kind of,” Sarah flushed automatically at the memory – if there was ever an impression she wouldn’t mind having wiped out… “There was, but she left pretty quick and then everything was… normal again, for a while longer. No, it turned out he just needed me for something… arcane.”  
  
There was a terseness, a bitterness in Sarah’s voice in that last statement; a shadow crossed her features as she looked away.  
  
Shara was on the edge of her seat. “Sheesh, did he need you for a virgin sacrifice or what?”  
  
“Something like that,” Sarah answered quietly, remembering the feel of the trisp in her hand, the elation and the disappointment. The hurt.  
  
“That son-of-a-bitch! I am so sorry! But how did you ever manage to escape?”  
  
“I got on his younger foster-brother’s good side. The apparition you just saw is one of his,” Sarah replied slyly.  
  
“Shit! You’ve just been living in the wrong world, haven’t you?” Shara shook her head in disbelief. “You’re really in your element with magical types! Hey, did you meet anybody you’d wanna set me up with? If you’re really serious about coming home sometime, I’d be down for that!”  
  
“It’s not that easy, and you don’t really comprehend what you’re saying,” Sarah stated carefully. “I never said they were the good guys; think about what he was wearing the day you met him.”  
  
Shara stopped. “He was wearing a lot of black. So, they’re… Unseelie? Is that the right word?”  
  
“You’re saying it right,” Sarah nodded. “I guess you could call them that; it wouldn’t be too far off.”  
  
“Still… bet the ‘good guys’ don’t do kinky-control-sex, either.”  
  
“Shut up!” Sarah laughed, flushing again, knowing full well that the truth of the matter would scar Shara’s mind, worldly as the girl was, and she was seriously considering telling her for that reason alone when Ghost rematerialized.  
  
“All right!” he announced cheerily in his usual Thari. “Here are the directions. I made them as specific as I could.” A stack of paper the thickness of a thin paperback novel dropped into Sarah’s lap, making Shara jump a little; it was bound, too. Upon opening it, Sarah saw that it was done in a clean Thari typeset. Rather like a novel. She bit back a laugh: Ghost was safety-ing her into the ground.  
  
“This should be more than sufficient for the journey. Thank you.”  
  
“I gave you slightly different scenery on your way home; there are a few fairly interesting sights between here and there.”  
  
“I’m sure there are. Well, you can give my regards to your dad, although I’ll be speaking to him soon enough. It’s been a lot of fun on the whole; I hope we get to work together again sometime. Take care of yourself…uh, however it is you do that,” she ended a little awkwardly; she had gotten so used to thinking of Ghost like he was a real person that the thought automatically came out before she had a chance to think through the full implications!  
  
He seemed to take it in the stride. “Your concern is kind, but my dad personally performs my physical maintenance procedures and magical upgrades on a regular schedule. You take care of yourself – try not to get into too much trouble out on this end?” he added a bit conspiratorially. “You’ll notice I didn’t say ‘don’t get into any’ – it would be a useless reprimand and I think you’re itching for just a little. Remember your trumps; you were presented with them for a reason, although it will be considerably more difficult to reach the distance across from way out here unaided. At least try to keep out of situations where you would need help quickly.”  
  
Sarah laughed. “I think I should be able to manage that. Farewell, Ghostwheel,” she added warmly, “safe journeys.”  
  
“And you, Sarah. I’ll be sure to let my dad know you’re game for future assignments with me.”  
  
The golden light winked out. There was silence in the room for a few seconds.  
  
“Is it gone?” Shara finally ventured.  
  
“Yes,” Sarah sighed a little sadly. “I know he’s a little freaky, but that thing’s a pretty nice guy. He’s programmed to be nicer on the whole than any of the real people out there.”  
  
Shara regarded her a bit dubiously. “Do I even want to know?”  
  
“Probably not; the real explanation of what he is makes my brain feel like its tied in knots.”  
  
“That’s good enough for me,” Shara conceded, getting up to sit down on the side of the bed. “So… how is this going to work? What did he give you? Can I see?”  
  
“Be my guest,” Sarah laughed, handing the pamphlet over, “but you’d better be careful with that – it’s the full instructions of how to get you home to your world and me back to mine afterwards in one piece.”  
  
Shara gingerly flipped through it, shaking her head in wonder. “Is this the script of that language you were speaking just now? This is a crazy-complicated whopper of a spell, isn’t it?”  
  
“Yes and yes.”  
  
Shara whistled, handing it back. “You’d better find a good place to hide that – maybe it wouldn’t be noticed on one of the top bookshelves,” she mused, glancing about the room. “Nah, on second thought, you’d better let me hide it; you’re just plain lousy at hiding stuff. I found your diary right away.”  
  
“You read my diary?!”  
  
“Well, yeah,” Shara continued matter-of-factly, “I had to see how you thought about different things, see what had been happening with you. Man, your description of that Jareth-guy sounds like he really had it going on, but he was a little too much of a psycho; I think you made a good choice waiting for the next one, even with the virgin-sacrificing tendencies – you don’t have to explain,” she assured in the wake of Sarah’s impending splutter, “I read the book. Like I said, hiding things is not something you’re particularly good at. I wouldn’t have guessed that was real myself before all of this happened. My guess is you didn’t really believe it, either, but it all worked out anyway. Am I right?”  
  
Sarah nodded. “It was the beginning of this whole mess,” she muttered quietly, then stared away out the window; her backyard had never looked so inviting and so dull all at the same time. She could even open the window in here if she wanted to. More things that she’d always taken for granted.  
  
“I think I see,” Shara observed, lightly chewing her lower lip for a moment. “So, what are your plans now?”  
  
“Well, first I’m going to venture downstairs to get something to eat – oh my gosh, my parents!” she slapped a hand over her mouth, finally thinking to look at the bedside clock behind her: it read 6:14.  
  
“Relax, it’s Saturday night – take a wild guess as to where Daddy and Step-Mommy Dearest are right now.”  
  
“Downtown,” Sarah exhaled in relief; she was far too used to basically living alone at this point. Granted, it would’ve been fun freaking Karen out with the two of herself but the consequences didn’t even bear considering. “And they left you babysitting.”  
  
“It isn’t the fate worse than death that you make it sound like,” Shara rolled her eyes, “it just takes a little patience. I’ve actually been taking after-school sitter jobs around your neighborhood for a little play-cash. Man, are your parents stingy; they wouldn’t even give me an allowance – even my mom did that.”  
  
“You’ve been – oh, for - !” Sarah wordlessly vented her frustration. Maybe she shouldn’t come home after all; Shara had officially ruined her reputation.  
  
“Hey, it beats flipping burgers or bagging groceries – I did both back when I was trying to help with the rent. Taking care of really little kids is easy.”  
  
Toby suddenly got his two-cents in from down the hall.  
  
“Speaking of which, it’s dinnertime – you wanna come say hi? Or not?”  
  
“I think we’d better not confuse him. Give him a hug for me.”  
  
“Good call,” Shara got up and jogged to the other room.  
  
Sarah got up and took off her bag, leaving it in the chair, and slowly wandered around her old room. While its contents immediately brought back a flood of memories, so much here simply felt too childish now, even moreso than when she initially came back from her…trial. This place was just stuffed with the detritus of her life before her parents’ divorce – she could admit that to herself now – and she had been terrified of relinquishing it without knowing what could possibly replace it. She smirked a little coldly. So her stepmother wanted her to act more her age? Maybe she would redecorate – paint the walls black, reupholster the chair and window seat in a deep violet velvet, get dark-blue curtains and pillows and tons of thick candles – yep, her ‘rebellious phase’ was shaping up nicely. Maybe paint the vanity, too. And roses, there simply had to be dried roses all over the place, just for the scent…  
  
Stepping out and heading down the hall in the other direction, Sarah made a quick bathroom stop and brushed her teeth while she was in there – before realizing it wasn’t her toothbrush!  
  
_Yuck! That was an old habit waiting to happen._ Rinsing it back out in very hot water, she gargled the jerky-taste out of her mouth instead, then went on downstairs. The place hadn’t changed a bit (she had to remind herself that only two months had passed here), but she was seeing it all with the new eyes of experience and knowledge, that this was just a tiny microcosm of a single shadow-world among billions upon billions of them; it just happened to be the one she hailed from. A quick dig through the fridge for leftovers was hardly appetizing and she wound up just making herself a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup. _Home Ec classes, here I come_ , she thought a bit ruefully; if she ever wanted decent food as she had come to know it on a regular basis again, she would clearly have to learn how to prepare it herself – some of Karen’s casseroles were going to be harder to stomach in the future. Shara came down after a while, joining her at the small table in the kitchen.  
  
“Toby can be a handful sometimes but he’s a pretty cute little peanut; he started toddling better just a few weeks ago so now I have to chase him down before putting him to bed,” she pronounced a bit raggedly – but she was smiling anyway.  
  
“I’m afraid you make a much better big sister than I ever did,” Sarah said between bites. “How have you been getting on with my parents?”  
  
Upon hearing a familiar voice downstairs, Merlin came bounding into the room barking.  
  
“Hey, boy!” Sarah knelt down out of her chair to greet him, laughing as he licked her face, knocking her to the floor. “Yeah, I missed you, too,” she shoofed him behind his shaggy ears. He suddenly looked up at Shara and a deep growl started in the back of his throat. “No, look! She’s a friend, see? Get over here,” she motioned to the girl.  
  
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Sarah,” Shara cautiously knelt down beside her. “He growled at me like that for a week straight when I first got here – even your parents were a little suspicious of that. I’ve had to use my own money to get him doggie treats so he’d stop seeing me as a threat; I had to keep a couple on me at all times just to calm him down for a while. Isn’t that right, poocha?” she said, digging one out of her back pocket, giving it to him.  
  
Sarah rolled her eyes, sitting back up. “You aren’t much of a guard-dog, are you? No, you’re not,” she recommenced petting him, “you’re just a big ol’ pushover, aren’t you, boy?”  
  
The pushover rolled over, begging for a tummy rub.  
  
Sarah chuckled. “Double the Sarah, double the fun, right?”  
  
They obliged him in tandem, one on each side. Eventually he got back up and gave Shara a quick lick on the hand before shuffling back into the living room. The girls washed up and Sarah quickly polished off her dinner, such as it was; it was getting cold. Shara located a hidden bag of chocolate chip cookies in the pantry and a couple cans of pop and they headed back upstairs to be within earshot of Toby, keeping the door partly ajar, crashing on Sarah’s bed.  
  
“As far as your parents go,” Shara recommenced, ripping open the bag, “it’s actually been pretty easy to work around them. I mean, the first couple of days were kind of awkward, but it’s mostly been smooth sailing ever since. And your stepmom really isn’t that bad, she’s mostly just too aware that she’s the interloper here between you and your dad. Give her a little outward respect and she’ll fawn all over you; it’s kinda funny watching her try to be a stereotypical mother-figure, it just isn’t her at all,” she laughed. “She’s clearly out of her element in suburbia, too. You sort of have to take her with a grain of salt. Now, your dad is another story completely. I think you must remind him pretty strongly of your real mom – he definitely loves you, of course, but now that you’re getting older and into the theater and all, too… I think he just doesn’t know how to deal with the idea of you growing up into someone similar. He just sees it too much. He probably never totally processed the divorce, either. On the other hand, he does seem sort of relieved that ‘you’re’ finally getting along a little better with Karen, although there was some dubious questioning in that direction at first, too. I think he figures you’re just trying to make the best of the situation and getting on with your life at this point – which probably isn’t a bad idea if you wind up living here again; your real mom sounds like almost as much of a self-centered bitch as mine is. She hasn’t called at all, by-the-way.”  
  
“She’s just busy,” Sarah countered knee-jerk defensively, sipping her soda, taking a handful of cookies.  
  
“She’s too busy to even acknowledge the existence of her own teenage daughter? Just think about that for a minute – that silence says something and it’s hardly flattering. I know.”  
  
Sarah stuffed her face with Chips Ahoy in silence. Shara was right, of course - she had managed to psychoanalyze her entire family with almost unnerving ease – but the truth still hurt. And Shara could see that, too.  
  
“Hey, if it makes you feel any better, you’re starting to make some new friends in the theater department at school – don’t worry, I’m steering clear of the leading-role cool kids and going for the techies and some of the choir people. You’ve officially been accepted into the Dungeons and Dragons RPG game with a few guys from Physics Club every Wednesday afternoon and for the most part you’ve been kicking their butts.”  
  
“My school has a role-playing group?!”  
  
“You just never talked to anyone at all, did you?” Shara shook her head, hitting the cookie bag herself. “It’s amazing what you can find out with a little basic communication. Everybody only treats you weird if you don’t try at all.”  
  
_Where on earth have you been my entire life?_ Sarah thought astoundedly. _Oh, that’s right – not on Earth. New Yark, wherever-the-heck that is._ “I wish I’d had a big sister like you,” she said finally, “it would’ve helped a lot. Wait, how old are you?”  
  
“I just turned fifteen a couple days ago. Why?”  
  
“Just wanted to know,” Sarah brooded. Granted, she herself was a year older than she would’ve naturally been now from her time spent in Chaos, but if she could work out the calculation…  
  
”Anyway,” Shara interrupted her train-of-thought, “I’ve been writing all of ‘your’ exploits down in your diary so you’ll know what you’ve been up to in your absence,” she stated teasingly. “I think most of your new friends went to the same middle school you did, but we can check out the yearbooks so you can see who they are.”  
  
Shara had just gotten up to retrieve them from one of the wall-mounted bookshelves when Sarah suddenly started feeling the beginnings of a trump connection.  
  
“Shara, I need you out of the room right now – I’ve got an incoming call any second and I have to be alone for it!” Her vision of the room was already starting to fade; whatever sources Merlin used for his own trump calls had to be very powerful indeed to cause this.  
  
Shara stopped in her tracks. “Are you serious? That’s like Luke Skywalker!”  
  
“Just go!” she frantically swooshed her away with her hands.  
  
“Outta here!”  
  
Sarah heard the girl run out of the room, closing the door behind her, but she didn’t see it; Merlin had already appeared in humanoid form in her mind’s eye. He was seated in a room she didn’t recognize; from what little she could see, something dark and indistinct was sort of undulating around in the crimson background behind him.  
  
“Are you alone, Sarah?” he asked.  
  
“In this room, yes,” she managed calmly.  
  
“Good. I take it what I’m seeing is your bedroom. Did you have any trouble getting home after I last spoke with you?”  
  
“No, it went real smooth. I’m going to miss Ghost, though.”  
  
The High King smiled sadly, nodding. “He’s capable of being endearing in a manner that humans aren’t when he puts his mind to it. I really don’t foresee any major projects for you at all in the near future, but I will definitely keep you posted. As to the matter at hand, I have some bad news and some good news – I know, probably not what you wanted to hear, but we actually did work out a solution… of sorts. Lord Suhuy wasn’t quite as surprised as I was when I told him of your plight, although he sends his well-wishes also. I’m afraid what you’re feeling is directly and entirely due to the fact that you are a full-blooded human; you physically don’t process the Logrus energy as efficiently as we can and the excess builds up sufficiently for you to actually feel Her personality a bit, whereas we experience it more like an impersonal force. There really isn’t much for it in the traditional sense. The one thing I can do is to make you think you can’t feel Her and ameliorate the problem that way. The only catch is that you wouldn’t ever feel anything at all when you deliberately try to work with the Logrus, either – you would just be rendered permanently numb. I don’t know just how badly this is really affecting you consciously anymore so I’m going to let it be your call. Do you want to try it or not? Lord Suhuy couldn’t guarantee that the process would be perfectly reversible if you didn’t like the effect and changed your mind since it utilizes the Logrus as part of the spell.”  
  
“Well, She can be a bit unnerving at times, but I think I’m more prone to notice it when I’m not busy and alone. I’ve even directly talked to her on one occasion, though all I got in response was a bigger smile – I just felt it.”  
  
“You’re very lucky if that’s all. I’ve been unlucky enough to actually hear that voice on three separate occasions.” He literally shuddered at the memory. “I can’t believe She’s being that nice to you, but at the very least I think She knows you couldn’t handle the full manifestation – being what you are – and She’s actually showing a little restraint.”  
  
“…I feel Her stirring again just now; I think you might be right,” Sarah sighed. “Look, it’s not killing me to have this the way it is right now, but if it ever gets too out-of-hand it’s good to know there’s an emergency backup plan… I think I’m going to decline for the time being,” she answered carefully.  
  
_‘There is no shame in this…’_ Would Mandor’s voice haunt her forever? She suddenly laughed. “If I need you, I’ll call.”  
  
Merlin looked more than a little concerned at her odd reaction. “Are you sure?”  
  
“I’ll be fine,” she said a little annoyedly. “I still have the anti-panic ring, too; that used to tamp down the sensation pretty good, but now I’m honestly not sure why it worked that way, knowing what it is.”  
  
“All right,” Merlin sounded a bit more assured. “Now, let’s talk about you and your somewhat awkward relationship with the Dark Side,” he smiled.  
  
And they did, for a good twenty minutes. Apparently the High King of Chaos had also long been plagued with the severe moral qualms deriving from his dual heritage, even once deliberately refusing to choose a side in a contest between the powers themselves, even though it had meant going forward in the trial completely unarmed and unprotected! He knew all too well what it was like to care about things and people from both sides and to be unjustly treated like the enemy by both sides because of it. The conversation didn’t ever truly resolve anything, but by the end of it Sarah felt a little bit better about her current position: it was the fairly unique quandary of being concerned with the Whole, and she was far from alone in this, even if it would be difficult at times. And it was still very easy for her to talk to Merlin – in fact it was easier to talk to him than it was to keep any information from him; she’d nearly slipped up a couple of times but caught herself so well, weaving it into the basic conversation, that he hadn’t noticed at all, stuff she was fairly certain that someone older like Mandor or Suhuy or even Random would have nailed her on instantly. She did tell him that Random hadn’t even gotten a definite location out of her to search – he had taken New York to mean the city, not just the state – so she still had a small amount of anonymity where she was for the moment; if and when she moved out, she wouldn’t publish her address or phone number again. Towards the end, Merlin could tell that something else was sort of quietly bothering her but he refrained from bringing it up - he would not be his brother; he would let her tell what she was comfortable telling him and retain her trust and goodwill this way. He could hardly imagine an instance where this would not serve, but there were harmless ways to get information out of the girl should it ever come to that. Before long, they were saying their goodbyes; Sarah’s was tearful and she had nearly reached out to him through the trump without thinking, but he prevented her from doing so before she could accidentally get sucked through. She really was a sweet kid.  
  
“If you miss me that bad you can call,” he finally laughed, “just remember that I’m a very busy man – goodness knows what you might see! Maybe you’d better just let me check in occasionally, make sure you’re still doing okay.”  
  
“Very well, your Excellency,” she curtsied from where she stood. Sarah knew she was forgetting something minor but couldn’t for the life of her recall what it was in time. It couldn’t have been terribly important.  
  
“Start researching your colleges – I’ll be quizzing you,” he teased. “May the Logrus keep you in Her favor, continuing to be gentle with you, Sarah.”  
  
“And may the Force be with you.” She’d never been comfortable with these blessing-type-colloquialisms invoking the ‘wrong side’; she probably never would be.  
  
Merlin laughed. “Yeah, I’ll take that. Live long and prosper.”  
  
And just like that he was gone.  
  
Sarah slowly sat back down on the mattress, the heady weight of the situation finally coming over her: extenuating circumstances aside, she was finally being left to her own devices. Completely. She had just ‘graduated’. Her official duties and requirements were over. It was just her and her trumps and her powers. And Her… Her always. It had felt like trying to make friends with the monsters in her dreams, coming to terms with that presence, but at least She was finally a devil Sarah felt that she knew well. Not that it was comfortable, mind you, but she sort of knew what to expect by now; that helped in an odd sort of way. She was suddenly glad that she wouldn’t be spending this first night back home by herself, as immature as that felt; she wasn’t really ready to be alone just yet. She got up and went to the door, opening it.  
  
“All clear!” she softly called, not knowing where Shara had gotten off to; the girl crept out of Sarah’s parents’ room where Toby’s crib was.  
  
“Is the Republic still safe?” Shara only half-joked, walking back in.  
  
“For the moment, I think,” Sarah teased back. “Let’s just say… on second thought, let’s not; the less you know about any of this the safer you’ll be.”  
  
“Wow, are you ever in deep. Guess I don’t get to ask about that leather pouch on your hip, either. For what it’s worth, it looks pretty cool.”  
  
“I think I can tell you it contains a communication/transportation device of sorts, but I’d better not let you see them – they’re visually activated and theoretically anyone can use them.”  
  
“Them?”  
  
Sarah sighed, exasperated. “See? I’ve already said too much!”  
  
Shara just shook her head. “I think I’m starting to envy you a little less. It’s gotta suck not being able to talk about any of this.”  
  
Sarah thought then of her first conversation with Merlin, the part about who to trust with the truth. He’d been right about it being hard, regardless.  
  
“I do have some goodies I can show you as long as you don’t ask where they’re from. You wanna grab one of my empty jewelry boxes while you’re up? I nabbed some gorgeous sand from the last place we hit on the way home.”  
  
Sarah proceeded to unpack her small treasures: the blue sand, the amber heart from Amber, the leftover silver coins she still had – she let Shara pour over them but wouldn’t tell her what they said. It was only when she got to the green leather journal that she finally belatedly remembered what she should’ve asked about: her books from Lizard Land! They were still over at Mandorways! They might as well have been on Pluto. She gave an irritated huff as she unrolled her peasant dress, discreetly removing the brooch before throwing both the dress and the towel into the laundry hamper.  
  
“What’s the matter?”  
  
“Oh, I just remembered where I misplaced a couple books. Guess they’ll get added to the library.”  
  
“You mean… his?”  
  
“Mm-hm.”  
  
“Yeah, you’re definitely not getting those back,” Shara laughed. “What did his place look like, anyway?”  
  
“Oh, lots of black, dark jewel-tones, velvets and brocades, semi-sentient floating furniture and custom-colored fire – you know, sorcerer stuff.” Sarah stopped, remembering. “And a gigantic display of Earth’s sky superimposed on the ceiling in the library so I wouldn’t miss it; their own sense of the passage of time ran a little sideways,” she sadly smiled.  
  
The two girls talked long into the night about many things Earthly, Chaosian and Amberite, even if the latter labels were carefully eschewed. Sarah made sure to be ready for bed by the time her parents came home so she hopefully wouldn’t have to leave the room for anything; they simply couldn’t be too careful. Thinking back, she realized that it was actually pretty peculiar that her initial interview with Mandor in this room hadn’t woken anyone; they hadn’t been shouting but neither had that long conversation been whispered. He had to have magically ensured the rest of the household’s sleep somehow; Karen usually woke up at the drop of a hat. Sarah had offered to sleep somewhere other than the bed but Shara wouldn’t hear of it.  
  
“This is your room and it’s only for tonight. I’ll just grab an extra blanket and take the window seat.”  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“Yeah, I’ve slept in weirder places than this!” she laughed off her concern. “I once went with a guy who – get this – lived in somebody else’s hallway closet for free!”  
  
Sarah’s parents got home late as usual, but went to bed quickly after saying goodnight to… their daughter; she hadn’t realized just how much she had missed her dad until she heard his voice in the hall again, telling her that he loved her – via proxy. She planned on waking up early the next morning and sneaking out while everyone else was still asleep. She’d traded a couple of her duplicate coins to Shara in exchange for some cash so she wouldn’t even have to make any noise at all in the kitchen for breakfast; she’d need a good filling meal for the day that lay ahead. In spite of how tired she was, it took Sarah a long time to fall asleep. There was just too much to think about, too many memories. The last night she had spent in this bed she had thought she was going crazy, only to wake up to a strange gentleman who wanted to talk even stranger cosmology over hot chocolate. She groped for her trump pouch at the side of her bed in the dark and dug out Mandor’s ring, slipping it on. It didn’t do much anymore comparatively-speaking, but just feeling it on her finger was comforting in an almost Pavlovian manner, although she wouldn’t ever freely admit this to anyone. She snuggled back under the covers and invited the nothingness of sleep to take her away until it did.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Meanwhile, in the watery depths of Rebma, first shadow of the One True City, a small unnatural current rippled down, down, down a thin spiral staircase hewn out of the seafloor itself, stealthily passing the green and lavender-haired guards at their posts in the bottom dungeon; little did they know that their spears and tridents were useless against an adversary that could become like the very water they breathed. Coming to a bolted, locked metal door, it carefully searched the surface and discovered that it wasn’t perfectly flush: there was a small slit where it didn’t quite touch the floor. The ripple hesitated for only a moment, the quickly slid under, as skinny as it could manage…  
  
And made it! That peculiar portion of water suddenly took on substance and form, filling out, and soon a sable-haired young girl – only eleven-and-a-half years old – lay there upon the natural stone floor, panting. And then she giggled silently at what she had just accomplished! She was wearing a camouflage-colored wetsuit from the neck down and swimming flippers on her feet, all painstakingly procured by her mother by mundane means off in Shadow so that the accoutrement could not be traced. And the few spells her mother had employed in the venture couldn’t have possibly come off any better; the one that had led the decoy straight to the king had been nothing short of brilliant, utilizing only a detailed map of the realm, a stylus, and the real-life projection of her own daughter!  
  
The girl stripped off the fins and secured them to her belt, then got up and carefully made her way over to the beginning of that bright-glowing, twisting line inscribed in the floor of the room. She had been training for this day her entire life and now, young as she was, it was finally time; all variables had been accounted for, all was calculated to precision. It would all fall out just as the Logrus had predicted. Their patience was about to be rewarded beyond their wildest dreams. Her mother had stayed above the bay long enough to see her safely off, to remind her one final time of who she really was, of what this meant to them both before starting off to Chaos without her. Sarah’s original was about to come into the inheritance of the children of Oberon: power from the Pattern of Order to walk in shadow. And then…  
  
She took a deep breath and forcefully stilled her thoughts, centering herself before embarking upon the great trial…


	13. King, Knight, Rook

Chapter 13 – King, Knight, Rook  
  
Sarah was abruptly awoken out of a dead sleep by a different type of screaming for a change: the high-pitched buzzing of Shara’s watch-alarm. Reaching beneath her pillow, she quickly located and silenced it; she had borrowed the thing and buried it so it would wake her (and hopefully no one else) at 4:45 A.M. It was every bit as ungodly early as it felt, but she had to be able to escape the house again without magical assistance. Groping for her Chaosian-style clothes that she’d left on the floor at the side of the bed, Sarah dressed herself in haste in the dark – there was literally no time to do anything else. She was on the verge of strapping her trump pack to her hip again when she suddenly thought better of wearing them so openly here, and, lifting the generously-sized blue blouse, strapped the adjustable hollister x-wise to her abdomen instead; the contraption was a bit more awkward to wear in other ways like this, but she reasoned she could get to them fast enough in an emergency.  
  
_They’re invisible, good_ , she approved the decision, tucking her shirt back in, hoisting her stocked carryall over her shoulder (such as it was; the overnight kit still had enough stuff in it to be serviceable at least once more), the brooch pinned into the inner pocket. The girls had raided the pantry the night before, looking for supplies she could take with her; Sarah’s powers, while impressive, were still too unreliable to count on for emergency provisions, and she had no idea just how long this little escapade was going to last. All they’d managed to come up with was a bunch of individually wrapped, hard, old-fashioned granola bars, though; Karen wasn’t in the habit of buying a lot of snacks in the hopes of encouraging the eating of more produce. Sarah would have to purchase at least a couple bottled drinks (although she was now glad that she had been taught to never, never bring carbonated anything along on shadow travel – things tended to explode from pressure changes that way.)  
  
Sarah produced a small spirit-light and looked down at Shara: the girl was just zonked out and she didn’t have the heart to wake her at this hour just to tell her goodbye. Her doppelganger knew just how grateful she was for all her help with…well…everything. Her ‘life’ here was in pretty good hands, all-considered, until further notice. Or was she technically Shara’s shadow, since the girl was from closer to Amber? Their predicament was just plain freaky if she thought about it too much.  
  
Extinguishing the light, she noiselessly slipped out of the room, padding down the stairs in the morning darkness as quietly as she could manage. Tiptoeing over to the front door, she eased the deadbolt up; it squeaked a moment and she held her breath. Silence. She rapidly unlocked the door the rest of the way and let herself out, locking it all up behind her with the emergency keys that were ‘hidden’ on the porch beneath the welcome mat (who wouldn’t think to look there? At least it was a quiet neighborhood.) On a whim, she set the newspaper by the door, remembering their old delivery boy who used to just drop it on the edge of the driveway; whoever had the route now was chucking it into the bushes just under the dayroom window! Stifling a yawn, she crept down the wooden steps of the porch, then took off through the yard, goosing the only witness to her flight: a large raccoon who’d been rooting through their neighbor’s garbage cans - it screeched at her as she ran by, then continued about its own business.  
  
Darting through familiar unfenced yards and back-alleys with all the speed and heightened awareness of her training, Sarah had soon gained the commercial section of town and slowed down now that she was in a more public place, leisurely making her way over to the local all-night diner. After doing what she could for her toilette in the small, harshly-lit bathroom, she ordered the house breakfast special: steak and eggs, hash browns and pancakes, with a bottomless cup of coffee with plenty of creamer and sugar, having no idea what was in store for her today, much less when she would be eating a decent-sized meal again. Her current state of dress (not to mention just her presence here at this hour) had garnered some curious glances from the handful of regulars who were already here at 5:00 A.M., but thankfully there was no one who actually knew her; coming here openly had been a calculated risk, but it paid off nicely. She polished off almost the entire meal with the exception of some of the hash browns in just half-an-hour, tipped generously, and was out the door before the server could even finish asking what she was late for. Stopping in a convenience store a couple blocks away that was just opening for the day, she got a small bag of mixed nuts and two glass-bottled drinks, carefully following Mandor’s example; she hadn’t ever really thought about it, but there was probably the small risk of plastic denaturing during this kind of travel, too. But that meant…  
  
_Oh well, it’s too late for the rest of it_ , she thought resignedly, paying the cashier; if the problem arose, she’d deal with it somehow. It took a little rearranging to keep the two Snapple bottles from clinking together, but with all the other stuff shoved in the middle the carryall evened out and she was off again. The sky was starting to lighten with just a few cirrus clouds, the late waning moon still up but riding lower toward the horizon. She heard the old colonial clock tower away in the square chime a quarter-to-six right around the time she jogged across the stone bridge into the park; she had made good time. Quickly pacing further into the thick of the trees that were clumped about the large property, Sarah stopped for a moment, catching her breath. She had known since last night what she had chosen to do, but for the very first time the sheer enormity and responsibility of the decision slapped her upside the head and she went cold inside. There was no safety net here, no one to help her if anything should go wrong, no one to even know she was missing. No amenities, no outside protection of any kind – just her haphazard powers and her own wits to survive on. And that haphazard power was far more likely to be a liability than a help.  
  
Technically, the process of a standard shadow-walk was simple enough, not unlike lucid dreaming: she had to believe the place would change, and it would; the difficulty lay in the level of concentration necessary for the task. Slow, small changes were needed here, but she didn’t know how long she could stand to do it in one go before getting fatigued; Suhuy had always been careful never to push her too far beyond her natural limits during her training. It had taken Mandor a very long day to gain the Dancing Mountains driving in a car, but then he’d wasted considerable time, it seemed to her, in the attempt to replicate the Chaosian sky too soon. Perhaps one tried for the sky first when shifting to Amber – that would make more sense – and she suddenly reflected on just how cumbersome that initial trip had to have been for one accustomed to getting pulled through shadow and not the other way around. It had probably just been his personal lack of experience in using the method, she decided; he had proven scarily capable with types of shifts he was more practiced with. She didn’t remember anything particularly unusual about the sky in the shadow that housed the Labyrinth, so she would try for the land first; that was logical enough.  
  
Starting from where she stood, Sarah commenced walking slowly through the trees, trying not to notice anything but the ground directly in front of her feet, telling herself that there would be trees for a hundred feet more, and at the end of that there would be a left-turn and a clear dirt footpath, with the spruces dividing evenly, becoming a straight lane…  
  
…and when she turned, she saw that the ground now bore a well-worn dirt path that did not exist in the park – she looked up to see the perfect line of spruces ahead of her and shouted for joy, giving the air a victory-punch: she had done it! She wasn’t on Shadow Earth anymore! And then she did a double take – the sky overhead was distinctly lavender; this was not the same shadow-world she had seen coming this ‘direction’ the first time, and a glance behind her confirmed her suspicions: the building in the distance was not a large, stone manor house, but rather a noisy brick factory of some kind, belching oddly-colored smoke from the tall stacks. The grounds were devoid even of grass and someone was just walking out the front door – there was something not quite human in its very long gait…  
  
Sarah ran down the lane into the forest, anxious to be away from this place. The ground ahead turned hilly, which was welcome; it was easier to affect larger shifts this way. Over the next big hill, the forest abruptly gave way to a thick, grassy plain as she had desired – far too lush, though, but it was a step in the right direction, so-to-speak. She could no longer hear the factory; standing at the peak of the third big hill and looking back, she could see that the forest was gone, too. All around her were insect sounds – crickets, cicadas, other minute species she couldn’t immediately name but probably had the right to, being the first woman in the land. Were those pterodactyls circling way up there in the sky? She kept moving, doing her best not to imagine other prehistoric creatures hiding in the marsh she had just noticed to her right. The grass was getting much thicker, ancient ferns towered over her head…  
  
_No_ , she forced herself to stop. Her nerves were getting the better of her – that was all. None of this was real. There was a sudden rustling behind her but she deliberately ignored it, pressing on through the pampas, confident now of what she wanted. The ground gradually became drier, drier, until the plant life about her started to wither and die off, baking in the afternoon heat of a sun that she saw had grown too large – it could have been a red giant star – but she forced it to set quickly, timing its descent as she paced along, humming to herself. She was remembering a snippet of a peculiar song that she had heard Jareth sing, something about a crystal moon?  
  
The biggest, most brilliant moon she had ever seen outside of Chaos – half the size of that giant star – rose in the exact place where ‘sunset’ had just occurred, sparkling and shimmering an eerily beautiful pearlescent blue. Something bioluminescent in the parched earth reacted to the light, flickering back and forth across the plain. The effect subconsciously reminded her too much of water and soon there was an ocean ahead, completely blocking her way! Sarah sighed in frustration – her mind was simply wandering too much for the task. She could strike out in a different direction, of course – they were all strictly arbitrary when one did this - but goodness knows what other phenomena would occur about her in the meantime. At least there was no sign of precipitation… an umbrella! She knew she’d forgotten to pack something! Better to remember late than never. Summoning her version of the Logrus, she screwed up her nerve and directly reached into that inky aberration in space-time, reaching, reaching… she felt what she thought she was looking for and pulled it out by the handle – only to realize that it was alive! The material part was undulating, snapping at her hand! With a scream, she threw it back into the blackness and banished it, sitting down where she was, shaking and panting. She was definitely too nervous to do any of this.  
  
And then a terrible thought occurred to her: could she even get home from here? If she couldn’t even keep loose enough to effect simple shifts, there was no telling where she could end up! She could literally die out here.  
  
A thought nearly as terrible quickly followed on the first one’s heels: how would she even know if she’d found the Labyrinth?! The ‘real’ one, that is? There could literally be dozens of parallel worlds that ostensibly looked similar enough from the outside that she might not even be able to superficially tell them apart!  
  
A luminescent moth the size of her hand lazily glided by; it smiled at her.  
  
There was only one way that she might be able to guarantee that she could arrive there alive and in one piece, she realized with a note of disgust and more than a little worry: she would have to wish herself away. The old incantation would work - she knew enough about them to know that much by now – but she wondered if she could tweak the wording any, if it would lose its effectiveness.  
  
Sighing, defeated, she cracked open the strawberry-kiwi juice and took a swallow. If she was successful, she’d be verbosely having to explain herself to the Goblin King in about five seconds flat. Stashing the bottle and securing the carryall closed as best she could, she stood back up… and briefly wondered if she should just try walking across the surface of the water instead while thinking really land-like happy-thoughts. _Yeah, right._  
  
“I wish the goblins would come and take me away to the hill just outside of the Labyrinth,” she tried experimentally, wincing her eyes closed, anticipating getting grabbed by those ugly, smelly, horrid little creatures, the rabble of the mind of the most imperfect of the Logri, “right now.”  
  
She was not disappointed: there was a sudden sound at her feet like cockroaches scattering away from where she stood – the locals running for cover, apparently; some creatures she hadn’t seen in the dark – and tiny, grubby little hands, at least two-dozen pairs, lifted her clean off her feet, making her fall backwards but catching her. She heard wicked sniggering as they ran, smelling their foul breath and…alcohol? On and on and on they sped through world upon world after world; the effect was bewildering and she quickly lost all track of time and where she was, but there was finally daylight coming ahead – she could see the directional brightness through her closed eyelids. Without any warning at all, she was unceremoniously dropped to the hard ground; she would’ve hit the back of her head, but tufts of dried grass cushioned the blow. She dared to crack open her eyes…  
  
And found the Goblin King standing above her in his shell-like black armor, arms crossed, glowering down at her!  
  
“Not only have you obviously failed in your mission,” he uttered darkly in his normal, sophisticated-sounding English, “but in coming here in this manner expressly against my wishes, you now fall directly under my power to do with as I please. I warned you I would not be generous with you a second time.”  
  
“Oh, believe me, getting bodily hauled here by your minions was certainly not Plan A!” Sarah quickly retorted, not about to let him bully her; she painfully sat up, then stood up, brushing the dirt off as best she could. “I really thought I had found somebody who could help – he was my transportation for a while – but he bailed out on me, and the ‘walk’ was turning all wonky and dangerous… what the heck was I supposed to do?!”  
  
“That’s none of my concern,” he answered rather coldly, “and neither was this indignity any part of our agreement.”  
  
“This-!” Sarah was ready to verbally lay right into his arrogant, ethereal face but forced herself to breathe, closing her eyes for a moment. “Fine,” she stated a little more calmly, albeit tersely, starting to walk away from him back up the hill, “if accepting any help is such an imposition for you, I’ll just will a talking blue horse into existence that wants to give me a free ride home!”  
  
Jareth was silent for a moment, but then he spoke again.  
  
“Wait.”  
  
Sarah involuntarily stopped in her tracks – she literally couldn’t move! She heard him chuckle as he climbed up beside her.  
  
“As you can now undoubtedly see, those words do have power,” he studied her shocked expression with amusement, pacing in front of her. “But I believe from your reaction just now that you didn’t brazenly use me like this with no one lined up to trade against yourself, hmm?”  
  
Sarah was genuinely sweating at this point, but she did her best to keep up a brave front… only she couldn’t meet his eyes. “Look,” she said quietly, “before we go any farther with this, I want to make one thing very clear: I’m not doing any of this for you - I’m doing it for him, and possibly anybody else you could trick into coming here for your own twisted amusement in the future. You’re definitely not my favorite person in the world and I don’t really trust you, but I think the feeling is pretty mutual, actually, so I’m willing to voice as much.” She finally glanced up; his expression was a little difficult to read at first – too many conflicting emotions – but he finally snorted a laugh.  
  
“Noble to the end,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “I should take it from that that you did manage to locate him, then?”  
  
“I was lucky enough to speak with him privately in the Ways of Sawall.”  
  
Jareth’s eyes flashed open a little wider. “Really. And you told him the general gist of our plan? About me? What was his response?”  
  
“Oh, he sends his regards, I guess,” Sarah sighed, “although they were far from friendly. Basically he called you a moron to your face via proxy for sending a kid novice to do a master-sorcerer’s job. He also extended an open invitation for you to join him in his cramped, dark cell – really, I think he just wants to see how fast you’d crack in there just for kicks since he’s got nothing better to do. Imagine,” she smirked.  
  
The Goblin King looked none too pleased, but after a moment he relented with a small, rueful smile of his own. “A man after my own heart, it would appear,” he remarked, commencing to pace. “Where was he in Sawall?”  
  
“The art gallery.”  
  
At this piece of confidence, Jareth abruptly burst into maniacal-sounding cackling, briefly applauding. “A most novel display! Oh, well done indeed!”  
  
Sarah was taken aback by his reaction – it did seem just the teensiest bit crazy in truth – but she continued on calmly, trying not to sound perturbed. “He’s not on display as such… well, not for the general public, anyway; he’s up a hidden way in a chapel dedicated to him, genuinely weird setup. Dang, I never thought to ask him why!” she exclaimed, the true oddity of the thought suddenly dawning on her.  
  
At her own reaction, Jareth seemed to have mostly recovered himself, although he was still in a very puckish mood. “He’s a prisoner in his own church?”  
  
“Looked like it – I saw a projection of him above the altar like a picture that came to life. That’s how I talked to him, but he wasn’t directly behind the thing.”  
  
“How’s the position of the cell from there?” he asked more seriously.  
  
“It’s in a pictorial representation of Chaos on the floor to the far-right, kitty-corner to the altar – I’m telling you, this place is freaky, you can see leftovers from some kind of occult ritual all over the floor! He warned me to stay away from that part of the picture because it hides a strong one-directional way. From his own description, the setup of the cell itself sounds pretty straightforward, but there is one peculiar thing you should probably be aware of: the energy from the walls of the cell is directly responsible for keeping him alive this long – he should’ve…disintegrated, ‘naturally’? Is that right?”  
  
He nodded, motioning for her to keep talking; he had stopped pacing.  
  
“He should’ve been gone ages ago – he’d sort of planned on it, actually. He’d never imagined he’d still be in there. No one ever looks in on him anymore, let alone feeds him – I guess that’s one thing going in our favor: he probably won’t be missed. In any event, if you really want to save him, I’m thinking once he’s out of there we’ll have to return him to his Pattern as quickly as possible; he could literally fall apart very rapidly if we don’t.”  
  
The Goblin King had been listening intently, but by the end his expression had gone decidedly black. He quietly uttered a word Sarah didn’t understand but it was clearly a curse from the tone of voice and the delivery; it was followed by an irritated little sigh as he shook his head.  
  
“That would’ve been far too easy. Fate isn’t that kind. I should’ve anticipated this,” he commenced pacing again.  
  
“What is it?” Sarah asked, genuinely worried now. For both her and Corwin.  
  
Jareth stopped and looked at her. “A small but flawless arcane device used only in the Courts, and only by a handful of very powerful lords at that, in private dungeons,” he expounded. “Its very existence is a state secret. Figures it would be deployed somewhere on the Sawall compound - never speak of this,” he warned direly, pointing a gloved finger at her.  
  
Sarah’s eyes were wide. “What in the worlds is it?” she barely dared to whisper.  
  
He crossed his arms, standing directly in front of her. “You didn’t hear this from me. And neither will you breathe a word of this to any soul, living or dead. Do you swear?”  
  
She nodded eagerly.  
  
“They’re called Shadow Vacuums,” he said then, very quietly, “not unlike miniature black holes, but under a form of extreme outer control using direct, unfiltered Logrus power. They are capable of discreetly sucking up the energy from other shadow-worlds and using it as a localized…’pressure device’, I suppose one could say; the concept utilizes more than a little quantum mechanics and is a bit difficult to explain to a novice in plain speech,” he demurred. “The result is easily demonstrable, however: it completely eliminates any chances of shadow-walking out of a predetermined locality. They are always operated at considerable distance from the Courts, but usually with multiple singularity endpoints within a compound itself. Our ‘friend’ is currently trapped inside one of them; it has to be linked up to the way adjoining his cell,” he ran his fingers through his unruly, white-blonde hair. “As you can well-imagine, those blasted things are far too powerful and complex to easily dismantle; it would take a power equal to the ‘vacuum rate’ just to jam such a device for even a fraction of a second. A Chaos Bomb would be needed to truly destroy one – and in the process, one would have destroyed most of the connected compound by proximity, as well as probably many other adjacent estates, if not most of the shadows to which they are attached. Not that the idea doesn’t have its own appeal,” he looked up thoughtfully, stroking his chin, “but our spectre would obviously be destroyed also in such a venture, practically sitting on top of one of the main detonation points as he is.” The king exhaled, closing his eyes. “I suppose it was only a fool’s chance after all.” He met Sarah’s worried eyes again. “That really was the best you could have possibly accomplished, but you could’ve found a better way of informing me,” he quietly scolded her, but he didn’t sound angry anymore. Just depressed. He snapped his fingers – and Sarah physically jolted a little, then did a full-body shiver: she had literally forgotten that she had been frozen in place this whole time! She took one pace back away from him, almost a little scared; he seemed much more at his leisure now.  
  
“I see you were successful in ridding yourself of that ring,” he noted offhandedly, “although you’re still claimed by the House of Sawall as a whole. What did you think of the Thelbane?”  
  
Sarah openly gawked. “How the heck do you know all of this stuff?!”  
  
The king merely gave a small, secretive lip-smile. Did he employ spies? Some of his goblins might not even be noticed in the Courts, she suddenly thought.  
  
“If you stay here with me long enough, you’re sure to find out a great many things, little girl,” he deliberately said in a tone of voice that made her squirm. “But I suppose I might be persuaded to ferry you back home in exchange for a vague future promise to give me your firstborn child, should you ever reproduce.” The statement was simply insane, but it was delivered with such casualness – almost friendliness! - that it threw Sarah for a loop.  
  
_Alrighty then, there is officially something seriously wrong with your head and I’m not sure I even want to know what it is_ , she thought, eying him dubiously; he had the nerve to look genuinely put-off by her reaction.  
  
“I am merely attempting to provide you with an option; you put yourself in this corner,” he stated as calmly and matter-of-factly as if she had just refused a ride with an honorable, sane stranger who was trying to save her from being stranded in the middle of the desert. Which was probably where they were.  
  
“Okay,” she said, forcing herself to breathe, fighting down a real wave of panic, “let’s just try to deal with this problem logically first. You said this vacuum can be jammed?”  
  
He gave a clipped, annoyed sigh. “Yes, but such a counter-operation would take far more power than I could possibly sustain alone from that kind of a distance – you can’t do this at all; the effort would render you a statue, probably killing you on the spot.”  
  
Sarah gasped – but not at that. “I nearly forgot – you’re only powerful right here!”  
  
It was Jareth’s turn to look truly shocked and aghast.  
  
“Hey, I lived with your original for a while, remember? He talked about you up front,” she lightly teased him, almost relieved to be able to get a little of her own back.  
  
He did not appreciate the joke. “You will never say that word in that context in my presence ever again, is that clear?” he snarled menacingly.  
  
_Touché._ “I’m not trying to insult you,” she annoyedly soothed his ego, “I’m just trying to gauge what kind of resources you do have at your disposal instead of flat-out giving up. I know you probably can’t understand this, but there is no way I can possibly accept that offer of yours.”  
  
The king smirked at her gumption. “Of course, until such time as you are at liberty again, I get to add your own ‘resources’ to my list in general. You obviously received arcane training as it is given at the End of the World. What is your own power like? What are your strengths? Tell me.”  
  
Sarah shrugged; there was no point in him not knowing anymore. “Mostly geologic/seismic – that’s the stuff I can control best. There rest of it is so… well… chaotic,” she laughed a little helplessly, “I can’t ever really predict the results. I guess you could say I sort of classify as a ‘wild card’. I doubt my particular brand of talent is what you need here from what you’re telling me. I mean, I could probably make the ground fall out right beneath his cell and that vacuum thing would just keep sucking him right…” The words died in Sarah’s throat just as she was about to say them, her eyes widening in immense realization. If she was correct…  
  
“What?”  
  
“Right back in,” she breathed, openly staring at him. The intimation was not lost on her companion; his own eyes flashed briefly, the spark of the idea igniting; he looked away towards the Labyrinth thoughtfully then, extending his left arm towards it, reaching out: Sarah could swear that the air visibly distorted inbetween, stretching out – then the effect was gone.  
  
“It’s actually a worthy thought,” he admitted, sounding a bit surprised, turning back, “but I honestly don’t know for certain; the tensile strength of my connection to this place has never been put to such an extreme test. Besides, there’s still the nuisance of having to break through the magickal defenses of the compound without being detected at all – patently impossible from the outside,” he waved it off.  
  
“Couldn’t I just wish you there? I mean, I altered your old spell and got here myself. It works that far.”  
  
Jareth openly stared at her as if she had just fallen from the sky, dumbfounded.  
  
“You literally never thought of that?!”  
  
He started pacing again – probably to save face, she reflected, because he was turned away from her at present. “It’s still a monumental risk for yours truly,” he resumed calmly. “The wording of that incantation would have to be flawlessly precise to ensure we returned hale and whole to this shadow.”  
  
“We?”  
  
“Our shred of an Amberite prince and myself. Of course.” He turned back, looking thoughtful. “It has to be your own choice of words; I can’t feed you any magical formula to use on myself – the effect will cancel out. If I may make one small suggestion, I believe it might be advantageous for you to wish us to return to the center of the Labyrinth; the pull of the Logrus here appears to be strongest at the nexus point.”  
  
Sarah eyed him uneasily. “But that would just effectively make him a prisoner again – yours.”  
  
“Perceptive as always,” the Goblin King genuinely complimented her with a small smile. “I’m beginning to believe you actually were worthy of the trial.”  
  
“I’m not about to trap him like that,” she answered firmly, ignoring the flattery – then smirked. “In fact, I haven’t even agreed to wish for you at all,” she crossed her arms, looking away imperiously; Ghost-Corwin was right – this was kind of fun.  
  
Jareth was silent for a moment, then chuckled appreciatively with a devious smile; he came right up to her, putting his left arm about her shoulders, and, turning with her, proceed to walk her down the hill towards the outer wall.  
  
“My dear Sarah,” he saccharinely addressed her with just a touch of teasing in his voice, “do remember that I am technically chief of a band of thieves, and as such it has greatly benefited me over the years to already have the developed reflexes of a stage magician.”  
  
Sarah was immediately on her guard then, but it was already far too late – he had nabbed the brooch from where it was pinned all they way inside her carryall! The only telltale sign of the physical nature of the theft was that the bag now stood completely open – he had done it faster than she could blink!  
  
“Hey!” she reached for it – only to find her feet magically anchored to the ground! Jareth easily paced out of range, casually looking the bauble over; the topaz-colored glass glowed brightly in his hand.  
  
“You had made it through the course with this,” he mused aloud, “I had nearly forgotten. It would be a shame if something were to happen to it,” he glanced back at her.  
  
Sarah’s fists were clenched, her teeth gritted as she fought down her anger and frustration with him. “Jareth, have you ever even considered attempting to parley with anyone without resorting to blackmail?”  
  
The king sighed a little irritatedly. “This is hardly blackmail, child; it’s more of a vague threat. Now this on the other hand,” – and Sarah’s trump of Merlin appeared in his left hand! – “this might actually qualify. You really need to learn to save the appropriate euphemism until it’s actually needed.”  
  
Sarah lunged at him and nearly toppled from her fixed feet! She summoned her Logrus into readiness and felt it sympathetically resonate with the gigantic physical one just ahead of her.  
  
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the king uttered menacingly. “What would your new patron think of your wandering about out here unsupervised like a lost pet? Shall I call him and introduce myself on your behalf, just to let him know where you are and what you’re really up to?”  
  
Sarah silently fumed at him. He had her and he knew it; he was thoroughly enjoying toying with her like this.  
  
“Now then,” he smiled easily, “let’s not waste any more time in bad feelings for one another. You comprehend the stakes: formulate a potent incantation for me to get our ghost-knight here safely and you will receive your things in return as well as your personal liberty – more than generous on my part, really. You have my word as king of this shadow; I will not go back on it. Oh, and the answer to your previous question would have to be ‘no’ – I much prefer leveraging the odds in my favor. Now think out that spell carefully, no rush. Even in this much, I am still sticking my neck to a rather dangerous degree. Regardless of your current emotional state, I don’t believe you have the heart to intentionally kill me.”  
  
The comment was rather offhanded, but it was very sobering; Sarah sighed, closing her eyes, forcing herself to calm back down. Him taking her stuff like that hadn’t been blackmail at all: it was insurance - against his own life. He clearly didn’t trust her at all, either - at the very least not her judgment - and he had wanted to ensure that she took this every bit as seriously as it was. Slowly and carefully, Sarah eased herself down into a sitting position, leaning back on her hands to balance herself against the edge of the incline. He was right in that it would take a rather complicated incantation if the result was going to be safe and accurate. And then, of course, unbeknownst to Jareth, there was the complication of Corwin’s sword – the weapon on that altar had to be his somehow. She wasn’t really certain what all his Pattern-ghost existence entailed, but it didn’t seem right that he should be deprived of the thing; in all probability, it was his only serious method of self-defense. And she wasn’t about to leave him at Jareth’s mercy, either…  
  
There were too many necessary points to formulate the whole thing clearly in her head. She reached into her still-open carryall and grabbed the new, empty journal; it had seemed like a possibly useful thing to pack last night and now she was very glad that she had – the task at hand required real composition. Clicking open the ballpoint pen she had stuck in with it, Sarah began formulating the canto… only to stop in mid-sentence, crossing it out, and starting again below it in Thari script; magic-work seemed to respond better to that language. It felt a little funny translating the old, familiar words into the very different grammatical structure of the ancient, totally unrelated tongue, making sure that the meaning was as accurate and precise as she could reasonably manage. Just working it out silently on paper, she could already feel the attention of the Logrus…and she had a sudden thought, stopping again. Looking up, she saw that Jareth had wandered on down to the wall and was casually studying the pale-blue flowers and the other scanty plant life that grew there; the pixies were fawning all over him, but he was completely ignoring them! Just seeing that nearly made Sarah forget her question, but she presently remembered it.  
  
“Your Majesty?”  
  
His gaze swung back to her; one of the enchanting little creatures had started kissing the exposed part of his neck, but he casually flicked it off with his thumb and middle finger as if it had been a mosquito – it gave an irritated-sounding little cry and flew off in a huff, arms crossed and nose up! “Yes?”  
  
“Do you ever feel Her – the Logrus, I mean – when you’re not using your power?” Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth Sarah immediately smacked herself in the forehead. “Sorry, that was an outrageously stupid question. Forget I even asked,” she bent to her task again.  
  
Jareth slowly sauntered back over to her, genuinely intrigued. “She troubles you when not called upon?”  
  
Sarah uneasily looked up, meeting his eyes for a moment, before staring back down resignedly at the page in front of her that she was filling with foreign sigils.  
  
“Fascinating,” he muttered quietly, starting to walk away again.  
  
“Hang on, it’s almost finished,” she stopped him, hurriedly scribbling down the last few words, followed by the single-word Thari command that translated to ‘right now.’ She carefully rescanned the text to make sure that she had gotten it all just right, then chose three words at random and lightly crossed them out; they were still legible, but she would omit saying them until the very end, utilizing them as ‘guide words’. Oh, all right, the last word marked out was a very deliberate choice, but with any luck the Goblin King would already be speeding away through time and space before he could possibly overhear it. She mentally ran through the formula one more time, double-checking her pronunciation, and gave a small nod of approval. That should do it. Then noticed Jareth attempting to read over her shoulder; she breasted the journal, looking up at him a bit irritatedly. “I thought you said you couldn’t know the words ahead of time!”  
  
“No, what I said was I couldn’t coach you,” he easily corrected her. “Although from the little I did see, it looks like you actually tried.”  
  
“It’s your own fault if this doesn’t work,” she warned, crouching, then standing back up with her feet still affixed. And gave an aggravated huff. “Will you at least have the decency to release me? I want to check something out before we try this,” she gestured toward the wall.  
  
He looked a little surprised. “You said that your sympathy with the Logrus was unsurpassingly strong!”  
  
“I said she won’t leave me be,” Sarah laconically corrected him in turn, “my ‘sensing’ abilities are actually pretty crappy.”  
  
The king stifled a small laugh, but made an odd sign with his left hand – and she instantly felt the pressure holding her feet in place let up. Jogging down to the nearest section of the wall, Sarah held the written side of the journal to the stonework, concentrating, establishing the connection… and physically leapt back a second later, panting and trembling! She gave her head a quick shake, clearing it. The feeling of the old, familiar dark smile lingered.  
  
“Well, offhand I’d say we have a possible winner,” she nervously laughed, backing a good distance away from the outer wall. “All the same, do you think I could have my trump back? I think I understand why you took it,” she met his eyes frankly.  
  
The Goblin King’s expression was incredibly guarded.  
  
“It’s the more fragile of the two items,” she qualified. “That other piece of junk has literally been to hell and back and it’s never changed one bit; once I found out what it was, that I’m stuck carrying it forever, I nearly wished it would. That’ll survive whether I like it or not.”  
  
Jareth studied her sideways for a moment… then cautiously offered her the card with just the beginning hint of a frowning smile.  
  
“Thank you,” she said quietly, taking it back but not pocketing it in his presence. “I’m not even going to pretend that I know just how this spell is going to act upon you, but all I can say is you’d better not lose that stupid brooch; it might not be much of a power artifact, but it’s all I’ve got.”  
  
His lip-smile was far more relaxed now. “I’m certain if you’d had any inkling that you were going through such an initiatory ordeal you would have chosen your token more wisely,” he patronizingly teased her, pulling a gauzy black scarf out of his left sleeve and wrapping the bauble carefully in it before stuffing it down the front of his breastplate from the top, unconsciously touching his own amulet with his free hand as he did so; it was currently embedded in the armor.  
  
_Of course_ , Sarah suddenly thought – it was too obvious, really. “Ready?”  
  
“Whenever you are. Speak slowly and distinctly, child; this is no race,” he advised, backing a few large paces away from her. The dispassionately cold resolve in his eyes made him look so much like Mandor…  
  
Sarah closed her own eyes and took a deep breath to center herself as she had been taught, then – with her heart hammering in her chest in spite of it – she commenced sounding out the short paragraph of Thari text, skipping the ‘guide words’ as she came to them, in the manner of Chaos; as she continued, the building tension about them was palpable, sliceably thick by the time she reached the end. Going back, she uttered the last three words resoundingly one at a time; each was like a physical blow. She closed her eyes and pronounced the final one that should send him flying: ‘sword.’  
  
When she opened her eyes, Jareth was gone; all that showed that he had been there at all were some fading sparkles in the air. She was all alone with the Fixed Logrus – not a comforting thought. Sarah stole a swift glance at the trump of Merlin - the successful computer software developer gracing its front-side, still looking thoughtful as ever - then untucked her blouse and hastily replaced it in the pouch quick before anything else happened. Remembering that the pixies weren’t normally that friendly, she climbed back up the hill and sat down under the dead, leafless tree at the top; she could see part of the way into the Labyrinth from here, but she reflexively averted her eyes – just even seeing it like this brought back a touch of her original post-trial flashbacks. She closed her eyes, gripping the dried grass, waiting for the effect to pass; once it had subsided sufficiently, she crawled around to the opposite side of the tree and indulged herself in one of the granola bars. It was totally silent out here: no birds, no insects, just a slight wind noiselessly making the grass and bracken tremble slightly every now and again. Even with the presence of any plant life after a fashion, this was truly a desolate world. She took another swallow of juice; the first bottle was already one-third empty, and she was beginning to worry that she should’ve bought a water canteen besides. There was a certain trick to ‘finding’ potable water when traveling through desert shadows, but she was stuck in this one and unable to alter it at present. Hopefully everything was going all right out there; she had absolutely no way of knowing. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true: if he didn’t make it back in about an hour or so, she could probably consider the mission a failure and try to head home on her own, cutting her losses; Jareth’s power likely couldn’t hold her if he himself was being ‘held’. She absently wondered why she hadn’t remembered the blue horses sooner, feeling really stupid for having not, but then she reflected that it could be surprisingly easy to overlook an obvious solution when one was embroiled in the midst of a problem.  
  
She shouldn’t have worried – not about that, anyway: the Dark Lady of the Abyss has only ever had one aim, desire, and ambition, and that is total destruction for its own sake. Sarah had been nervously pacing the summit of the hill, studying her boots to keep from looking at the view, when she suddenly heard Corwin’s bright, hardy laughter, and she looked up to see…  
  
Jareth had reappeared with his prize not twenty feet from where she currently stood, but the tip of that mythical-looking saber she had seen on the chapel altar was currently leveled at his throat!  
  
“Nice thinking on your feet, kid – good to see you again,” the prince’s Pattern-ghost complimented her. “I never thought for a second you could pull this off; looks like I owe you one after all. And this, I take it, is the sorcerer in question?” His gaze had never once left his prisoner, whom he towered over by a good six inches.  
  
Jareth was currently glaring at Sarah with an intensity that could’ve burned paper.  
  
“I’m sorry, your Majesty,” she cautiously picked her way over to them through the dried plant material, “but I just couldn’t let you get the drop on him like you were planning on.”  
  
“By allowing him to do the same!” the king shot back angrily.  
  
“By giving him the chance to defend himself! You realize that I could’ve wished us all away to a completely different shadow, but I didn’t,” she let the intimation hang without voicing the explanation to the newcomer. “And I hate to break your momentum here, your Highness,” she addressed the prince, unsure of how to properly address him at all – she had literally never had to do it – “but you do remember that you’re a ghost of sorts, right?” she asked uneasily.  
  
“Yes,” he answered a bit tersely.  
  
“…and that sword is…real?” she quirked an eyebrow.  
  
A slow, smug smirk spread across the Goblin King’s face, replacing that glare.  
  
“Real is such an ugly term, Sarah” Ghost-Corwin lightly reprimanded her. “By my own definition, none of this is. Let’s just say the weapon is solid enough to be effective against present company and pretty damned sharp, to boot.”  
  
“Just thought I’d check,” she murmured, eying her own boots – then took another quick glance at Corwin. The prince was dressed every bit as resplendently as that portrait of him had been in the chapel: he was in black from head-to-toe – something Sarah was rather used to at this point – but the style was less ‘Chaos-morphic’, more ‘historical Shadow Earth-looking’, with many silver accents, including his thick, protective leather gloves which he was now wearing; they had been looped behind his black leather belt before. His knee-high leather boots looked like military issue from some bygone century, his floor-length black cape adding to the epic image; the silver clasp at his neck had been meticulously cast in the form of a blooming rose. His physical presence even in this ephemeral state was surprisingly powerful.  
  
“And I know you’re pretty ticked off with me, your Majesty,” Sarah addressed Jareth once more, “but I technically did what you asked of me: I got the both of you back here, safe and sound. Now, can I please have my brooch back?”  
  
Jareth certainly looked plenty irritated at being kept at sword-point. “Do you mind?” he scowled at Corwin, taking one whole pace backwards; the prince kept his weapon poised but didn’t move. The Goblin King unceremoniously loosened the side-straps of his breastplate, dug out the small, swathed bundle, and literally threw it at Sarah’s feet with an accompanying glare before readjusting his armor; she stooped to retrieve it without her gaze wavering from him. Jareth sighed tiredly. “Put up your weapon, ghost-knight,” he addressed Corwin again. “You truly believe I would bring you here to molest your person when my intent is to parley with you peaceably?”  
  
“I don’t really know the first thing about you other than the fact that you’re dangerously powerful on your home turf,” the prince replied guardedly. “That and you’re deceptive by nature and probably more than a little crazy, from the account I’ve heard. And I know that you must think that stating your intent of joining my side regardless of the perils such a move entails will automatically gain my trust, but in my own experience… oh, fine, in my borrowed memory from my original – once a traitor, always a traitor. I may technically owe you a single favor in exchange for your risking your life to break me out of that dungeon, but what could possibly make you truly worthy of what you’re asking me to let you do? That’s taking for granted that the Argent Pattern will accept you at all – it’s physically repelled others it hasn’t cared for, won’t even let them try to walk it rather than bothering to consume them.”  
  
“Fair points all,” the king admitted quietly, looking down as he straightened one of his own thin, black gloves. “You call me ‘traitor’ for wishing to abandon the Power I have chosen, although ‘apostate’ might be closer to the spirit of the thing; in either event, I suppose I cannot deny the label. Do figure into your considerations, however, that I was first betrayed by none other than the Logrus Herself.”  
  
Sarah actually felt a visceral surge of black anger emanating from the Labyrinth down below!  
  
“Vent at me if you desire, Lady!” Jareth brazenly yelled back, “but you know perfectly well that I speak the truth!”  
  
The feeling receded, like a poisonous tide quickly going back out to sea. Sarah simply could not believe just how dangerously rash he was being with Her!  
  
“I risked all – my body, my sanity, indeed, my very being - walking that disjointed, half-frozen course, and in the end, rather than granting me a hard-won liberty and respite, She made me Her prisoner! I’ve been biting my nails within those endless walls and corridors for over three centuries now, feeling my sanity slowly ebbing away. I cannot escape Her, I have tried; were I to shadow-pull halfway across the spectrum of existence, She would reel me back in within minutes! I have to get out of here while I have any mind left! You of all people should know too keenly the mental anguish of even a normal prison.”  
  
He paused a moment, studying his unmoving, unmoved audience of one. “But you have no sympathy for my plight – you believe me to be a fool for entangling myself so in the tendrils of the Dark. So be it. Consider, then, your own plight. I have watched you long and with vested interest. I saw you first spring from the center of your Pattern, with that look of dawning realization bestowed upon you of what you were and where you were and why – ah, yes, do not look surprised,” he suddenly smiled; he actually had a fairly nice smile when he wasn’t being a prick, Sarah thought. He sweepingly gestured to himself. “You see before you a man with nothing at all left in the world but the time and resources to watch his enemies and those he hopes to win as allies. I have seen also another Pattern-ghost diligently guarding your Pattern all by himself in your long absence – he alternately seems to curse your name for stranding him thus alone in the middle of nowhere and to anxiously look for your return with the genuine concern of a friend. I believe it also says something of an unusual sense of loyalty in your Pattern, that it has not bothered to attempt to make a replacement for you when it could have easily done so long ago, had it wished. Such a Power is seeking friends and followers at present, not slaves, which I can appreciate to an immense degree, having been so long subjected to the latter. A third man would give you the beginnings of a true rotating guard schedule – more freedom of movement for you and your confederate, less possibility of internal conflict, less stress,” the king smiled persuasively.  
  
Corwin was clearly not impressed. “First of all, you can cut the bullshit line you’re trying to sell me; Luke is the resident salesman - I don’t need two. Which brings me to the next point: while my original did draw it into existence, the Argent Pattern doesn’t belong to me – I belong to it. Even if I were gullible enough to blindly accept your offer at face-value, the choice isn’t mine alone; I’ll have to talk this over with both it and him. Thirdly, you do realize that walking any of the true Patterns successfully will completely expunge the imperfect Logrus imprint from your being? You would lose all of your power save the ability to walk in Shadow – and that not always when you desire, either. You would take on an equal share in our immense responsibility, and to be brutally honest you don’t look strong enough to defend much of anything without some form of occult power at your disposal.”  
  
Jareth seemed to take the prince’s rebuff rather in the stride. “I wasn’t entirely powerless before I embarked upon my first trial,” he casually formed a crystal out of thin air, idly rolling it back-and-forth with his left hand, “although I grant you a point in that I may be currently a little rusty from lack of practice.”  
  
Sarah, of course, had seen him do this a few times before, but never so… completely. It was literally mesmerizing to watch, the outside world seemed to be melting away…  
  
Without warning, the crystal became a sizable black-bladed dagger and Jareth was suddenly behind Corwin, holding both his wrists extremely tightly in one long-fingered hand, the edge of the dark weapon poised against the prince’s throat faster than Sarah could blink, his sword knocked out of his hand, lying a couple feet away! He looked genuinely stunned.  
  
“Brawn isn’t everything,” the king remarked with a self-satisfied little smile, letting him go, giving him room. “I realize my own style is a bit more mercenary than you probably care for, but do remember where I’m from. As you pointed out, my better strength is in deception. Use my training for your purposes! Learning to fight like a Chaosian lowlife could potentially serve you well, especially with your small number of defenders, so-to-speak. I might even be able to teach you basic divertissement spells you yourself could physically master, simple animus magic that draws on neither of the Powers. What do you say?”  
  
Corwin was definitely thinking as he carefully crouched to pick up his blade, his wary eyes not leaving the obnoxiously amused visage of the Goblin King for one second. He sheathed his sword.  
  
“Sarah,” the prince addressed her without looking at her, “could you do me a big favor and walk over to that dead tree behind us, turn away, cover your ears and sing a song to yourself? I’d like to speak frankly and openly with our mutual acquaintance for a minute. Don’t stop until I come over. This shouldn’t take very long.”  
  
Sarah tried to stifle a smile, failing miserably, but nevertheless did as she was instructed; soon, a mostly-in-tune acapella version of ‘America’ was in progress about fifty yards away.  
  
“Nice touch,” Corwin quietly noted with a slight lip-smile, crossing his arms. “Alright, you crazy-ass, tight-panted superhero wannabe, listen up, I’m going to level with you: personally, I don’t care for you at all, but we could legitimately use some help, especially since it really isn’t forthcoming from any other quarters at present. Being a new Power, our position in the fabric of things is still more vulnerable than I like to think about. If – and this is a very big ‘if’ – the Argent Pattern accepts you and you survive the re-imprinting, I would expect you to take this job seriously; you would have to be willing to sacrifice your life for our cause should it ever come to that. Guarding our Pattern is not a free-pass for you to dick around doing whatever-the-hell it is you do to amuse yourself. And if you ever even think about betraying either of us or the Argent Pattern to anyone, I will have no compunction about personally carving out your eyeballs before feeding you to the nastiest Chaos-based shadow-beast I can find. Do I make my terms perfectly clear?”  
  
Jareth ruefully smirked. “I would’ve expected no less of a Prince of Amber, even if only in spirit; I would have been far more insulted had you not even considered me worth threatening. My favorite way of dealing with traitors in the past has involved adroit use of a bog so damnably foul that the stench literally never abates until the body decomposes; the victims usually die slowly of asphyxiation. Your taste in torture is far more lenient than mine.”  
  
“Then we at least understand one another,” Corwin wearily conceded. “I still have no plans on trusting you unless you are accepted – and then you’ll have to earn it. Stay right here; I have to go talk to the girl a moment.”  
  
“Where else have I to go?” the king laughed a bit desperately.  
  
Corwin strode through the long, dried-out grasses that carpeted the hill, up to where Sarah was standing, whole-heartedly attempting the third verse, and put a hand on her left shoulder; she instinctively jumped and looked back, letting go of her ears.  
  
“Offhand, I’d say your instincts were right on the money with this fruit we’ve got on our hands here,” he quietly murmured, discreetly gesturing back to Jareth, “so I’m getting you out of here first before dealing with him. He’ll probably try to follow, but I should be able to block him. Be prepared to run.” He turned back around, very discreetly taking Sarah’s left hand. “Okay!” he yelled, “get as far away from the Fixed Logrus as you possibly can while remaining in this shadow,” he pointed outwards toward the dried plain with his free hand, “and wait for me! One way or another, I’m coming straight back here with reinforcements. Unless you’ve changed your mind.”  
  
“What?!” Jareth screamed.  
  
“He heard,” Corwin quirked a smile. “Time to go.” He turned and made a mad dash down the steep side of the hill, dragging Sarah along; she didn’t have to look back to know that the Goblin King was furious – the sky was suddenly turning very dark with threatening-looking clouds! Coming up ahead was the remains of a thin, dead-looking wooded area filled with dried briars and bramble; they flew into it with the sound of close thunder on their heels.  
  
“Stupid bastard!” Corwin cursed him. “He seriously thinks he’s God here!”  
  
“I’m not so sure he isn’t!” Sarah gasped, dodging a bush that nearly tore a hole in her right sleeve. Maybe all of a hundred yards away, she saw a blue-glowing, circular squiggle drawn in the middle of the air; the wind was nearly hurricane-force by the time they reached it! Corwin ran headlong into it – Sarah barely had time to inhale before she was enveloped also.  
  
The punishing weather stopped on a dime: they had come into a pearlescent tunnel that was perfectly cylindrical and straight with little starlights sparkling here and there – considerable restraint in the glitter department, Sarah decided, but she wasn’t given much time to take in the view as the prince kept up the pace. The shadow-world that housed the final Fixed Logrus was cosmically situated surprisingly close to the Divide, and – unbeknownst to many as yet – the first shadow-world cast by the Argent Pattern. The end of the tunnel was visible from quite a distance away, their destination glowing green and blue in that order: green grass, blue sky. Stealing a quick glance over her shoulder, the pearly tunnel seemed to stretch on to infinity and they were alone within it. In under a minute more, they gained the exit point and Corwin stopped just outside of it, letting go of her; he appeared to not be winded in the least, basking in the nearness of his power source once more, but Sarah was just about out of breath.  
  
They had arrived in a world entirely carpeted in short grass like an immense, manicured golf green. There was a very large, mature oak-type tree beside them, but it was the only one, and to their immediate left the ground dropped off rather sharply into a fairly deep, lush valley that was completely shrouded in thick mist. Something large and indistinct at the bottom was glowing a silvery blue.  
  
_The Argent Pattern_ , she thought, the hairs on the back of her neck automatically rising, _the second Order, rival to the first. It has to be._ Even stranger was the presence of a collector’s cherry-red-and-white 1957 classic Chevy BelAir, parked just a little distance off to the right; Sarah wasn’t even going to ask. At least they might have an alternate form of transportation to how they had come in just now; that had been very uncomfortable, to put it mildly, only her adrenaline had kept her from overly noticing the outlandish sensation. The obverse power-source it utilized had actually been sufficient to temporarily weaken her Logrus-strengthened stamina.  
  
“You holding up all right?” Corwin asked her then.  
  
She nodded but didn’t speak right away. “That felt really freaky,” she panted, “and I know freaky – I spent almost a year in the Courts!”  
  
“The power used just there is a complete antithesis to your own imprint,” Corwin mused. “If your friend back there is even allowed this trial – and I really hate the idea – what you just went through will look like a walk in the park by comparison. I know I sound ungrateful when you clearly went to a lot of trouble to liberate me, but I meant what I’d said back in the art gallery: he really isn’t worth this hassle.”  
  
“I know, I’m sorry,” Sarah sighed, “ I was trying to find another way – nearly thought I had with your son’s… computer construct? I logically know that’s technically what he is, but I have a hard time thinking of him that way – it, I mean. But it turns out that it’s programmed too well; it wouldn’t veer off course for me. Still, I just couldn’t abandon you there out there – I would never have been able to live with myself,” she stated finally, looking up at those unearthly emerald eyes. _Arden green_ , she suddenly thought.  
  
The Pattern-ghost of Prince Corwin gave her a faint smile but there was a definite sense of mockery in the expression. “You really are a kid. I’ll be the ‘good guy’ for a second and be the one to warn you: don’t say such things too freely around too many of us, regardless of state-of-existence. Anyone with less scruples than yours truly would be sorely tempted to abuse a genuinely sweet nature like that.”  
  
“As long as we’re not counting that one little episode of you and Uncle Bleys personally duping an entire shadow-army of hundreds of thousands into marching on Amber to fight for you,” a medium-baritone voice echoed up from downhill, followed by a young-looking, brawny, red-headed man dressed in a historical-looking green-and-gold riding suit, the tunic emblazoned with a rising phoenix, climbing up to meet them.  
  
“You just can’t let that go, can you?” Corwin rejoindered, obviously in high-spirits upon seeing him. The two men briefly embraced.  
  
“Where the hell have you been?!”  
  
“A Chaosian prison, standing in for my original. Thought I would have dissolved ages ago and our good Pattern would have made you a brand-new Corwin to keep you company. Sorry I was wrong.”  
  
“Yeah, it thinks you’re special, all right,” the interloper laughed, turning to Sarah; his eyes were just as bright as the prince’s, albeit a much more natural shade of green. “And who do we have here, and that we’re speaking in English for, no less? Friend, prisoner, other?”  
  
“A well-meaning shadow-girl from Earth America who comes in peace,” Corwin wryly quipped. “What did you say your last name was again? In the excitement I can’t place it.”  
  
“Sarah Williams,” she introduced herself, presenting her right hand not to shake, high enough that the gentleman wouldn’t have to bow far over it if he didn’t choose to, a courtesy toward rank that Mandor had taught her. “And you would be?”  
  
The stranger smiled at the gesture and reciprocated in kind, taking it and very lightly kissing the back. “Call me Luke,” he straightened, letting go, “the rest of the name and title doesn’t mean much here – I’m pretty much in the same predicament as he is,” he glanced at Corwin. “I take it if you thought her fit to bring her here she’s been told. I gather you’ve done a bit of traveling yourself,” he addressed Sarah again in a friendly enough tone. “The way you did that just now is actually peculiar to the Courts, am I right?”  
  
Sarah’s eyes widened a little at being singled out so quickly!  
  
“It’s alright, kid,” Corwin reassured her, “his original’s mother has ties to the House of Helgram.”  
  
“Small universe,” Sarah observed, stunned; Luke laughed.  
  
“Hardly – but what brings you all the way out here?”  
  
“I’d better explain that,” Corwin interjected, “and I could probably use another sorcerer’s input on this one: it’s conference time again. I’ll join you down there in a minute.”  
  
“Well, it was nice to meet you anyway, Sarah,” Luke nodded politely in her direction, “good luck with wherever-it-is you’re headed off to next.”  
  
“You, too,” she replied generically, not really sure of what she should say. Once he had completely disappeared into the thick mist, she turned to Corwin. “Who is that man really? I mean, who’s his original? I thought I knew the royal roster of Amber; learning it was part of my tutoring.”  
  
Corwin shook his head with a bitter lip-smile. “His original has a proverbial tail a mile long; it’s amazing he hasn’t been executed. He, on the other hand,” he gestured downwards, “has been nothing but a great help to me here and a good friend to my son. Leave well enough alone.” He took a sweeping look about them, inhaling deep the fresh, clean air. “I know it doesn’t look like much at present, but it’s home for us. Maybe in a few centuries the spot where we currently stand will be in the middle of the fortified city-state of Corwinia – that’s my vote, anyway, but it’s contingent on my original ever coming back at all, let alone wanting to do something with the place. For right now, feel free to make yourself at home up here, but whatever you do don’t venture down into the valley – I see in your eyes that you already know why. No matter what happens here, however the catastrophe with Jareth falls out, I’ll be taking you wherever you should wish to go at the end of it unless you have another form of repayment in mind. I’m an old soldier-of-fortune, Sarah, not a trained sorcerer; any ‘wishes’ you want for me to grant you have to ultimately be of a practical, mechanical nature. Is that understood?”  
  
Sarah nodded. “A lift home would be really appreciated. Apparently, my shadow-walking skills aren’t quite as good as I thought they were,” she uncomfortably looked away at the memory.  
  
“You got the yips your first time out alone.”  
  
“Pardon?” she looked back.  
  
“You were too nervous,” he clarified with a small smile, “and it all kept falling apart.”  
  
She sighed, looking at his rose pin instead of meeting his eyes. “Yes.”  
  
“I’d like to just encourage you to keep practicing on a very minute level at home, but I honestly don’t think the Logrus is ever comfortable with working shadow that way, from what I’ve seen; the method is literally counter-intuitive to the Power.”  
  
“Which you’d think would appeal to Her,” Sarah remarked wryly; the prince gave a laugh.  
  
“Chaos wouldn’t be Chaos if it wasn’t irrational. I’ll return for you as soon as I can. Just take it easy and don’t worry: you’ll be fine. Shadow Earth and I go way back,” he stated a bit sardonically, then started picking his way down the steep embankment, disappearing into the mist himself.  
  
Sarah was truly developing an almost pathological dislike for being left completely alone like this, but she wouldn’t let her nerves get the better of her this time. He was coming back. He’d given his word. He still owed her.  
  
The thought wasn’t as reassuring as it should’ve been - the immediate circumstantial stimuli felt too much like being the only human being on an entire world – but she did her best to shake herself of the mood, parking beneath the old tree and digging the bag of nuts out of her pack. Leaning back against the trunk, she was surprised to find that the organism seemed to have a kind of consciousness and the tentative beginnings of a personality, possibly skewing male.  
  
_Of course it is_ , she thought with a note of sarcasm, absently munching; it might’ve been a rather stereotypical thing to think, but it seemed like the scant population of these crazy hinterland shadows was entirely male and she had yet to see any evidence to the contrary.  
  
It was an absolutely beautiful day here, though; warm sunshine, not a cloud in the bluish sky, just a little bit humid. The place felt surprisingly Earthlike – or perhaps not so surprising if these were the basic conditions that Order in general favored. There was no wind; it was perfectly still and peaceful. Of course, who knew how long ‘peaceful’ was going to last with Jareth here; in hindsight, Sarah nearly rued the decision herself. Getting him permanently away from the Labyrinth might make that place more safe for the other creatures who were native to it (or, rather, that he had made – she kept forgetting that point, but the fact hardly mattered now), but in doing so she had probably just relocated the problem of him elsewhere. Somewhere he could make far greater mischief, possibly real damage if he was careless enough. She would have never thought it before, but Corwin had most likely been right in his own inhuman mode of thinking – talk about someone completely comfortable with who and what they were!  
  
A very familiar visual phenomena – the chromatic, holographic fluctuation that signaled trump travel – unexpectedly caught her attention not far from where she sat, a little ways off to her left, and Sarah hurriedly put the nuts away, closing the carryall and standing, thinking the party with Jareth returning already. _That was fast!_  
  
Upon the resolution and solidifying of the image, however, she saw that it was a complete stranger. He resembled both Corwin and Luke strongly, and yet his figure was slighter, his curly, fiery-red hair a bit shorter, his face clean-shaven, his green eyes both cool and rapidly calculating. He was garbed in grass-green from head to toe, save his leather belt and boots; he could’ve passed for Robin Hood! A heavy, ornamented sheathed sword hung from said belt; there was a sizable emerald embedded in the pommel. Sarah was definitely on her guard now – the livery was simply too common of too many places, this could literally be anyone! – but it was rude to just stand there and stare, regardless, and she furiously wracked her brain for something even vaguely appropriate to say; the stranger seemed to be sizing her up also and quickly broke the awkward silence - only a few seconds had elapsed but the tension made it feel like hours to Sarah!  
  
“Hello, there!” he hailed her in perfectly accentless Thari; it wasn’t so much a greeting as a polite exclamation of surprised discovery.  
  
“Hi,” she answered him quietly. Then added, “Don’t mind me; I’m just waiting for someone to return.”  
  
He gave a slight smile. “Then I perceive we are in the same business at present.” He could tell from her relatively unpracticed scrutiny of him that she could not decipher whether she beheld friend or foe, which was well considering her own fairly obvious livery, but this terse silence would never do; she was still nervously eying his scabbard. His smile widened. “Fear not, fair maid! This mysterious yet illustrious personage you see before you has absolutely nothing to do with you whatsoever and certainly no reason to do you harm, especially since you wear the cut and colors of the noble House of Sawall, if I am not mistaken, one of my allies in happier times. Perhaps it is well that we do not exchange names, however; I know not your purpose here, either. Were you sent to attempt negotiations as well?”  
  
_What negotiations?!_ “Just stopping over between here and there, hopefully. I’m waiting for my ride.”  
  
Her naïveté was intriguing; he briefly studied the girl again.  
  
“You are not native Chaosian, then? A recent recruit, perhaps?”  
  
Sarah automatically gave a humorless, desperate little laugh without meaning to, shaking her head. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it; I don’t know what you’d call this, really.”  
  
“Involuntary conscription,” he answered promptly, suddenly serious, catching her off-guard as he slowly took a few casual paces closer. “I am sorry to hear it for your sake – you nearly seem too young to be playing the game – but the act alone on the part of the Logrus is academically fascinating. So it has truly come to this; I suppose the step is logical enough even though I failed to foresee it. But enough of such unpleasantry when our time here together is likely to be brief. I know that you have a great many questions about me, none of which you dare voice - perhaps wisely - but if you would be a dear and conjure me a cigarette, I may indulge you with some of the better parts of my tale. I guarantee from the outset that it is full of adventure, romance, and high sorcery, and that the telling will be completely devoid of that boring, moralizing patina so many would feel the need to paint over such a biography.”  
  
_What a collection of cheeky, neurotic narcissists this is_ , Sarah thought with a smirk. Still, she had to admit that he was right about her curiosity and they did seem to have the time. The prospect of so simple an act was still daunting, though. “I’m afraid my power’s a bit erratic,” she apologized in advance, bringing her version of the Logrus up before her, “I can’t guarantee what you’re going to get, but I can still try if you want me to.”  
  
“The quality hardly matters at this point,” he waived off her concern. “I am, by all accounts – including my own – dead. Truly.”  
  
That last statement stopped her in her tracks; she openly stared him up and down – she would have literally never been able to tell!  
  
“Alright, I officially can’t make any sense of this anymore!” she nervously laughed.  
  
“Don’t even attempt to,” the stranger half-mockingly reassured her, “it doesn’t make sense from a strictly Order-based paradigm, even if there is a certain poetic harmony to the process. Go ahead anyway,” he gently encouraged her.  
  
Sarah took a deep breath and plunged her arms and consciousness into that terribly alien, inky blackness that threatened to swallow her whole the more times she did this. Her eyes were still open but she couldn’t see; her whole mind was reaching, searching with singular purpose for something that was at once repugnant to her and yet terribly familiar – many of the actors in her mother’s theater troupe had been smokers – until she grasped the object of her quarry, dead-certain this time, and began to pull it in. She was only vaguely aware that the man she took to be some itinerant spy had walked over to her; when he spoke again, his voice was practically in her ear.  
  
“The end smolders already - behold the glow,” he suggested deeply; within seconds, a single cigarette was in her fingers, already lit! She quickly handed it off and immediately fought down a powerful wave of hysteria from the backlash of the use of the Logrus power in this place, gritting her teeth as it passed, suppressing the irrational urge to cling to this stranger for dear life! The man coolly observed her inner turmoil very matter-of-factly, unperturbed.  
  
“Fixed Logrus, correct?”  
  
She nodded yes, catching her breath.  
  
“I appreciate the difficulty, but there is no shame in it. My own dear wife was an initiate of the Broken Way,” he offered quietly, taking his first drag, pacing a short distance away.  
  
The thought of him being married served to humanize him a bit, and as Sarah recovered she realized that she found him less intimidating now and was almost looking forward to his story.  
  
Of course, this was the moment Corwin had to return; he was alone. Where Luke and Jareth had gotten off to was anybody’s guess. Maybe they were already down below. The stranger turned back and saw him.  
  
“But here comes the man of the hour now!” he sarcastically hailed Corwin, his cold glance raking his figure. “Or, rather, what’s left of him.” His green eyes flicked over to Sarah. “Alas, my true purpose here interrupts us. Should you ever see me again and I am neither busy racing through shadow nor in the middle of attempting to kill someone, remind me of our meeting here and that I yet owe you a lively tale and you shall have it,” he gave the slightest of bows, then turned his attention to the other man.  
  
“Don’t believe a word he says, Sarah,” Corwin warned her, “although I have to admit that in spite of the bullshit ratio, his storytelling technique is actually worth seeing: Brand Barimen was one of the world’s better actors – he even took me in once.”  
  
_Brand Barimen?!_ Sarah thought, suddenly afraid, staring at him again. _Brand the Traitor?! What in the world…_  
  
“An unsolicited compliment! Has death leant you a wider scope, brother mine? May we finally see eye-to-eye at last?”  
  
“Unlike you, my original yet lives and I too am well-preserved. For once I am willing to allow you to talk yourself to death; even as you go through the motions of your preamble you are physically unraveling. I must confess to a passing curiosity, however: which of the powers saw fit to reincarnate you this time?”  
  
“The True Pattern, which I never should have abandoned, has graciously given me this second chance.”  
  
Corwin scoffed. “You were a pawn of the Logrus in life, now a pawn of the Pattern in death. Will you never act for yourself, brother?”  
  
“Acting for our own selfish interests got us all into this mess,” Brand replied seriously. “Think of this sending of mine as a form of existential penance, if you will, and listen closely; as you correctly perceive, I only have the time to say this once. We both know that while the original Corwin made the vague, misguided attempt to save the worlds in creating this place prematurely, his new Pattern is terribly upsetting the balance between the two powers. The Logrus has already attempted to destroy it seismically once and should Chaos ever send you an envoy in like manner as myself, I can nearly guarantee they will be far less open to reason and negotiation. The True Pattern, on the other hand, recognizes your personal predicament here – being dependent as you are upon the abomination for your survival - and, while not pleased with your original, is willing to cut you a deal. If you would but allow the forces of Order to consume this renegade Pattern, you will be granted permanent existential continuance from the True one in gratitude, a rarified state of grace not even bestowed upon your humble servant,” he executed a low, mocking bow, quickly rising once more. “Take the word of someone who knows firsthand: the Courts will never offer you quarter, let alone amnesty; they are beginning to go to outrageous lengths to offset this damage,” he glanced briefly at Sarah. “You will never get a better offer. Your refusal means open hostility, and while the idea of facing an army single-handedly may still flatter your ego, you will find the bitter reality far less amusing.”  
  
“No deal,” Corwin answered flatly. “This Pattern an I have a standing arrangement: I protect it and it keeps me alive. No matter how many times I die, I’ll keep coming back and with my complete memory, no less - you can’t damage it again; it’s being actively archived as I go along. One way or another, I’ll exist as I am right now until the end of time. You’ll have to do better than that.”  
  
The Pattern-ghost of Prince Brand sighed, shaking his head. “You disappoint me, you really do. I had truly hoped that you would be more reasonable than your original, but it is only too clear now that regardless of your state, that which is Corwin will never change,” he stated darkly, drawing his bright rapier – ghost of the legendary weapon Werewindle, the Daysword – from its scabbard; it lightly smoked as he did so. He dropped the remainder of his cigarette to the pristine lawn and ground it out with the heel of his boot, killing about an inch-worth of that perfect grass.  
  
“Sarah, get in the car and stay down until this is over,” Corwin ordered her, tossing her the keys. “Wait,” he suddenly added, “better take this, too,” – and he rapidly unclasped his cape, rolled it in a ball and chucked it in her general direction; she just caught it.  
  
“Chivalry for me?” Brand inquired in a sarcastic tone. “You are entirely too thoughtful.”  
  
“You’d use it to trip or blind me every bit as readily as I would to you – this way it can’t become an issue. Do we really have to go through with this right now?” he unsheathed a perfect copy of Grayswandir, the Night Blade, pacing towards Brand. “Can’t I just get a raincheck? I’m a little busy at present.”  
  
“Busy foolishly making enemies of both factions, it would seem, especially if you are actually the one aiding and abetting that girl’s escape from Chaos. Do you never tire of playing the hero?”  
  
“Ask me again this time next week,” Corwin fiercely grinned, saluting.  
  
Sarah didn’t have to be told twice to get out of the way; she was in the Chevy, bent over in the back seat, before the two men even finished baiting each other. It was clear that this was a duel to the… well, not death, that wasn’t really accurate, termination might’ve been a little closer – and regardless of who won, there was no sense in exposing her to the psychological violence of the act. She could still hear them, though; they had started in almost immediately. As terrified as she was for Corwin, the fencing student in her was just dying to see what all they were doing out there, how they were mixing in the cut attacks with the thrusts; the closest she had ever personally come to saber-style swordplay yet was that fast fiasco with the trisp and Mandor’s coat pocket. For two beings that barely existed in any technical sense, they were certainly making a lot of noise out there; those old swords had to have some weight to them, and yet from the speed of the parries and attacks they had to be handling them as if they were as light as foils! It made her own skill level seem very rudimentary by comparison, even if she did know enough to beat a reasonable opponent. It was true that she had legitimately bested Mandor during six of their regular practice bouts (it was easy to forget that – he had worn so many other faces at the time), but even at that, a lord of Chaos was usually more adept at sorcerous dueling; physiologically they were not forced to live and die by the sword as the men of the House of Amber were. That was the real deal out there; all she could do was hope that Corwin could hold his own.  
  
There was a sudden audible break in the action, followed by Brand’s laughter; she held her breath.  
  
“You’ve lost some of your finesse, brother,” she heard him chide in a mockingly superior tone. “Balance and emphasis, sequence and order; your style was once far better than this. Your memory is slipping away from you anyway; it didn’t really require the help. But you do. Badly. Shall I remind you of how this is done? With each stroke of Werewindle like a paintbrush upon canvas? Shall we see which colors you bleed now?”  
  
“Cut the shit; you can’t psych me,” Corwin calmly shot back, “and I’m not about to waste my time dancing fancy circles around you just to skewer you.”  
  
“So be it!”  
  
The sounds of clashing steel recommenced; a mere two seconds later there was a sudden cry of pain. It had been so indistinct that Sarah couldn’t honestly tell which of them it had been, and being unable to stand the suspense of not knowing any longer she mustered the nerve to peek over the edge of the window.  
  
She still wasn’t perfectly certain, but she saw that Brand’s forearm was now emitting a long, steady stream of… smoke? They didn’t bleed?!  
  
“Yes, Corwin, feast your eyes upon the damage that you have wrought in my unflesh! A most intriguing design, isn’t it?” Brand threw his parries wide, making the gray plume dance. “See how it swirls and eddies?” He slashed for Corwin’s head, but the cheap shot was easily ducked.  
  
“Such a preoccupation with visual stimuli is your own weakness, not mine,” Corwin answered with a feint to the head, “Will enough combined strikes form a Pattern, do you think? Let’s find out.” He made two further beats on the outside of Werewindle, feinting a third, then, as Brand disengaged, Corwin blocked the blade and lightly pierced him in a low-line thrust that Brand couldn’t completely parry, evincing another gray trailer and grunt of pain. “Nope – not yet.”  
  
“Damn you!”  
  
Being a fair distance away from the duelers put Sarah at a distinct visual disadvantage, but it truly looked like Brand’s body was beginning to take on a vague translucency as he retreated, executing a complicated feint-parry-beat combination, nearly succeeding in making it through Corwin’s defense high-and-inside, aimed to slice straight through his shoulder! The cut was stopped in sixte, however, followed by a false head-cut, parry in quarte, and an equally devastating riposte to the chest that Brand nearly didn’t parry in time, forcing him to vault out of line. He immediately charged right back at Corwin, hoping to catch him offguard with a sweeping low-line cut to the flank, but Corwin beat him to the punch with a low-starting cut upwards – like how a tennis player slices the ball – that would’ve ripped his opponent from groin to chest if it had landed; Brand parried it hard in an incorrect seconde, his own previous momentum saving him – it was a difficult move to block.  
  
“That was hardly sportsmanlike, Corwin,” he ground out, holding Grayswandir down with all his might; his opponent was still trying to execute the cut by brute force!  
  
“This isn’t the Olympics, either,” Corwin noted, finally releasing the position, swiftly retreating in turn as Brand slashed widely for his midsection.  
  
As they closed again, Brand precipitated a false attack to the inside of Corwin’s arm, parried by quarte-counterquarte, and riposted right underneath his wrist, managing to slice into his glove; the thick, silver leather was all that kept the bright steel of Werewindle from biting into his flesh similarly! They both knew this was a contest of attrition; even sufficient surface wounds would end in personal destruction.  
  
But it was in this unfortunate hour that Luke and Jareth returned via the Pearly Road; upon seeing the duel-in-progress, Jareth vanished almost instantly, giving the visual impression to any who might look afterwards that Luke had suddenly appeared alone. It took only a second for Brand to see him.  
  
“Rinaldo! My son!” he cried out in surprise and joy. “The Unicorn is truly merciful to send you thus in my hour of need! Help me to dispatch this imposter and we may return to Amber together with high honor!” The momentary distraction almost cost him his left eye; he literally had to swerve to miss the tip of Grayswandir!  
  
But the ghost of Rinaldo – whose original had taken the name of Lucas Reynard on Shadow Earth, long ago – couldn’t look at him at all.  
  
“Save what breath you have left for the fight,” Corwin chided him, retreating for a moment, “that’s not your kid; he’s a Pattern-ghost just like us, and while your Pattern would not have sustained him any longer than to get a word of warning to his cousin Merlin, my Pattern has adopted him outright. It sustains us both. You might want to add that into your calculations of destroying the thing.”  
  
“No son of mine shall ever bow and scrape before you, nor anything you make!” Brand growled, closing viciously fast for a moment before being repelled by sheer physical strength; it was an oddly karmic reminder of when he himself had become capable of incredible, superhuman feats after his treatment in the Fountain.  
  
“Corwin!” Luke called from the sidelines, “if he surrenders to us, could you find it in your heart to try to save him as you saved me? I know you have no love for him, but in all probability he’s all I’ll ever have left of my father! Why are you dueling?”  
  
“I have repented the grievous error of my ways,” Brand interjected, keeping Corwin busy with a one-two riposte in turn to the sword arm, followed by several feints and another low-line thrust which was stopped, “and the Unicorn demands this traitor’s death in payment for my own sins!”  
  
“I’m handing your old man his spectral ass because he wants to destroy what’s keeping us alive,” Corwin finally managed, lunging again, beating him back. “And I can’t save him; he’s too far gone in all senses,” he ended grimly. It was the truth; Brand was fading even faster now as they fought. Had he been of Chaosian origin, he would’ve gone up in a pillar of flame some minutes ago already; it was a small miracle on the part of the Pattern that he was still alive at all.  
  
“Rinaldo!” Brand continued to yell, starting to sound a little desperate, “Rinaldo, I’m your father! Help me!”  
  
“You were lost to me long before you died!” Luke shot back bitterly. “Your entire personality changed! You abandoned us to go destroy everything you had once loved! You abandoned Mom! She grieved for you as dead while you yet lived!”  
  
“If you have any compassion for that boy, you’ll leave him alone – this is between you and me!” Corwin roared. “This is for taking my sister Deirdre with you to the grave, you filthy son-of-a-bitch!” he stamped and succeeded in landing the touch on Brand’s high cheek he had tried for earlier – just a superficial scratch, really, but the resulting plume of smoke worked to partially occlude his opponent’s vision, adding to the level of distraction he was having to consciously negotiate.  
  
“Rinaldo!” he screamed.  
  
Sarah knew she shouldn’t be watching this, but by now her eyes were glued to the terrible melee. Corwin was continuing on valiantly like the old soldier he said he was, but he was beginning to make slight mistakes just due to their outrageously accelerated pace. It seemed the one true danger to himself lay in the fact that his blood was finally up; the game had turned to one of personal vengeance for him, not just defense, and some of his instinctive attacks and counterattacks now seemed familiar to his adversary, who would probably have been fairing better had he only been leaking normal bodily fluids. As it was, Ghost-Brand – whom she had literally just met – was fighting wildly for what was left of his life, and while she recognized him now as a true enemy, she couldn’t help but pity him even though the thought still sort of oddly rubbed her the wrong way. And poor Luke – Rinaldo, the Pattern-ghost of Rinaldo Barimen, she corrected herself – torn cruelly between his loves and his loyalties, agitatedly fingering the hilt of his own utilitarian, modern saber, almost ready to burst out of his skin. If he entered that duel…  
  
But where was Jareth? It suddenly occurred to Sarah that he had in fact returned with Rinaldo - she had forgotten it already! Had the Labyrinth pulled him back in so quickly? It was then that an ominously dark shadow slowly materialized some yards away from the combatants, behind Brand. As it silently coalesced, Sarah saw the Goblin King smoothly form a crystal and her eyes widened in dawning comprehension and horror; he must’ve felt her gaze for his own cold eyes flicked to hers momentarily and he put a finger to his lips, signing for her to remain silent. She shuddered – he looked like the angel of death! Compactly winding up as if it were a baseball, he pitched the crystal as hard as he possibly could, his leg kicking out behind him from the force, just as Brand was sliding beneath Corwin’s blade, starting to drop to one knee, about to perform a final deadly upward thrust that would cut straight through all of his opponent’s innards (if he’d had any) – the crystal changed into a black throwing dagger in midair, spinning end-on-end… and whipped into the back of Brand’s neck! With an inhuman scream, he suddenly ignited from head to toe, dissolving into a blue-burning human-sized vortex; in seconds all that was left of him was the remains of his cigarette and a second circular charred spot in the grass. The hilt of the small, black Chaos-blade lay within the center.  
  
“Hey!” Corwin yelled angrily. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Are you completely insane?! That was a private honor duel! You could’ve missed and hit me!”  
  
“A pleasure to see you again as well,” Jareth replied calmly, walking over and retrieving what was left of the small weapon from the ground, making it vanish. “I was only saving your life; he nearly had you a few times there, not to mention nearly guilting Rinaldo into attacking you also – you were about ready to, don’t deny it,” he turned and pointed to the party in question, “and before the hour was out he would’ve figured out who she was,” he vaguely nodded toward the car and Sarah, who was pretty badly shaken, “and attempted to use her original’s blood to ruin your Pattern before he expired, whether he would’ve had sufficient time left or not. I also have taken the emotional burden of his demise upon myself: rather than hating you, to whom he appears to be bound for all eternity, fine young Rinaldo here can hate me, a complete stranger, who – with your gracious assistance – you may hurry on his way, not to trouble either of you long enough for most of the immediate homicidal anger to subside. Now, do I make your team or not?” he asked callously, standing akimbo and looking genuinely irritated that this ‘interview’ was taking so long!  
  
Luke looked at Corwin. “He’s right,” he said uneasily, “I was this close to trying to break it up, even logically knowing that it was hopeless. I just couldn’t watch…” he looked away, shaking his head. “And he’s also right that I hate his guts right about now,” his heated green gaze – so much like his father’s - met Jareth’s, “but he’s technically proven that he can keep a cool head and deliver under pressure when he has to. I still say let him try it; if the Argent Pattern consumes him, I for one won’t be broken up over it.”  
  
Corwin gave a great sigh and nodded, resheathing Grayswandir. “My own sentiment is similar. If he’s going to be an annoying meddlesome bastard, he might as well be our annoying meddlesome bastard.”  
  
“Your Amberite flattery knows no bounds,” Jareth oozed in a brittle, saccharin tone, “but shouldn’t you be paying just a little attention to the weakest member of your party?”  
  
In spite of the fact that they had all just glanced in her direction only moments ago, it was as if Sarah had ceased to exist in their minds until just this moment. Corwin instantly had a look of vague, belated guilt and concern cross his features as he began to walk over to the car.  
  
“I told you not to watch for a reason,” he started to scold in English, even though the reprimand didn’t sound like it had any teeth, but Luke put a hand to Corwin’s chest, stopping him, and went himself.  
  
Sarah was still in shock, trying to process what she had just witnessed; it felt surreal. The inside of Corwin’s cloak that she had been gripping in her lap during the fight still held warmth from his own body. “I heard one of you cry out in pain and I was afraid for you…that you…how in the world…” she shook her head, looking away with tears in her eyes.  
  
Rinaldo opened the left rear door, leaving his sword belt just outside on the ground, and got into the back seat with her, closing it. “Hey, I know that was really rough for you to watch; it was for me, too, in a way. Wanna talk about it?”  
  
“It was horrible,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes dry on her sleeve, embarrassedly setting the bundle of black material aside on the section of seat to her right before turning back, “I’m so sorry for your… but I just can’t get my head around… are you technically alive?”  
  
“Me, personally? Not really – well, not as you would define it, anyway. I mean, the last time I checked, my original is alive and well and unwillingly ruling a distant shadow-world kingdom called Kashfa in Amber’s Golden Circle as we speak, and Corwin’s original is most likely off exploring the new set of universes he accidentally made, but of ourselves… we have a kind of existence, but that’s about all I can say with certainty. I don’t even have to eat anything to stay functionally corporal now that I’ve been adopted by Corwin’s Pattern. The Pattern of Amber generated me for a similar purpose as the specter of my father that you just saw – as a one-time messenger – ages ago. By all rights I shouldn’t be here at all; there’s a reason we’re colloquially called ‘ghosts’. That copy of Dad would have most likely dissolved in minutes anyway, as much as I hate to think about it; as soon as he delivered the Pattern’s message and Corwin rejected it, the Pattern would’ve stopped sustaining him. They just hurried along the process is all. Brand Barimen died a traitor’s death years ago at Patternfall, and since he was my father I avenged myself upon his killer with honor. It’s over and done with. It might seem like it on the surface after seeing this, but you can’t actually kill somebody who’s already dead. If it ever desires to do so, the Pattern can regenerate his image, or anyone who’s ever walked it, any time it wants. He’s gone and of course I miss him, but I miss him as he was before he got so messed up and I choose to remember him that way. The Pattern does, too, obviously. Perhaps it will let me see him again someday, a version of him that does not remember the evil that he later wrought in the name of an ill-conceived revolution. When he was still just my dad.”  
  
“Although I would strongly advise against reminding him of this interview in the one-in-a-million chance that you ever see him again, Sarah,” Corwin interjected, leaning against the open window. “It might incite him to search for this place again in order to deface it. I can’t believe he actually thought to say that to you, even in this state. That wasn’t the Pattern’s idea; that was all Brand. That’s now dangerous he was. But Luke is technically correct; we’re little better than nominally sentient and animated 3D photographs of a person from a specific point in time; Brand was just overexposed. If it’s any consolation, you allowed him to indulge in an old favorite habit before he went, a kindness he certainly didn’t deserve,” he smiled a bit ruefully.  
  
Sarah knew they meant well, that they were trying to rationalize away her natural reaction to what she had just experienced, but the stimuli was just too strong for her human instinct to be overridden like that. It looked like death. It felt like death; he was extinguished in anguish. She had just met him – he had been genuinely friendly towards her, nearly sympathetic – and now he was gone, just like that. No remorse, no tears, no nothing, not even from a semblance of his own son. Their general callousness in regard to the situation was nearly terrifying; it reminded her of something Lord Suhuy had taught her about Amberites, how they culturally tended to look down upon the stuff and people of Shadow as if they were expendable, unimportant, versus the Courts’ more selfishly opportunistic and inclusive worldview. Currently, the whole thing made her feel a little nauseous. Maybe she had been chosen by the right side after all.  
  
“As per usual, you gentlemen leave it to the token Chaosian to clean up your messes for you,” Sarah suddenly heard from the opposite window and automatically glanced over: Jareth was standing there – she couldn’t see his face from her vantage point – but in his right hand there was another crystal; he lightly tossed it to her through the open window. Having no idea what it was (and especially after those knives!), Sarah wasn’t about to catch it, but it landed smartly in her lap anyway. As a peach. Jareth got into the front passenger seat and turned around to face her, kneeling with his arms crossed behind the headrest. His expression was actually amused.  
  
“Remember this? Remember what it does? By virtue of who and what you are, the effect appears to be only temporary, although even a temporary oblivion may help to blunt the trauma. By the time you fully come back around, you should be miles, indeed worlds away from this shadow and its painful associations. Do the prince a favor and buckle in first.”  
  
“Just what are you playing at now?” Corwin tersely interjected.  
  
Jareth’s gaze lazily swung over to his. “For all of your cold, precise, scientific logic, you fail to take into consideration one simple thing,” Jareth lectured a bit irritatedly.  
  
“Oh really, like what?”  
  
“Like this entire situation is too damn much for her weak, limited human brain to handle, that’s what!”  
  
_It’s too much, isn’t it?_ Mandor’s darkly compassionate voice echoed in Sarah’s memory as she picked up the peach and looked at the construct through her extremely limited Logrus-sight, now that she actually knew it for what it was. For one moment she wished that Mandor was here; if there was anything she would choose to forget, Brand’s cruel demise was a tempting candidate. But that avenue of recourse was closed to her now. She had made her bed and now she got to lie in it. She also recognized in this act of Jareth’s a vague, indiscriminately inaccurate reflection of Mandor Sawall’s clean, precise power: under the construct of the fruit, under the crystal, there was a faint, small globe-shape that kept flickering in and out on the very knife-edge of existence. Concentrating, she collapsed the other forms down into the one she knew well, letting the worst of the backlash fall upon her memory of her guardian, and offered Jareth the mock-up of Mandor’s metal sphere, shaking her head no with a sad smile.  
  
The gesture was not received kindly: Jareth’s good humor instantly blackened as he got out of the car, slamming the door behind him, and stormed a few paces away, arms crossed.  
  
“Oh, come on!” Corwin stood up. “What was that for?” The sooner they could be rid of this temperamental mess of a man, the better.  
  
“I remind her of her blasted mentor!”  
  
Sarah had to suppress a laugh as she got out of the car and walked over to him, unperturbed. It did not escape the notice of either Pattern-ghost that Jareth had unintentionally managed to distract her from the problem at hand, and in a way neither of them could have possibly done.  
  
“I didn’t mean to insult you,” she said when she reached him. “Really, you should take it as a compliment. There are worse fates,” she suddenly glanced over her shoulder at the area where the duel had taken place with a shiver.  
  
“Like having an original who’s probably a spoilt 12-year-old Amberite brat,” he countered glibly, turning to face her with only half-teasing sarcasm. “You do realize that no matter how hard you may try to act otherwise, you’ll be physically and mentally underdeveloped for years? It certainly explained a lot, finding that out about you.”  
  
“Luke,” Corwin groaned, dragging a hand down his face, “one way or another I expect this drama queen to be gone by the time I get back, do you understand me?”  
  
“I certainly do,” Luke smiled grimly, getting out of the car himself, retrieving his sword belt, putting it back on, and walking over to Jareth. “Goblin King, you’ve just won the grand-prize vacation for one!” he announced, sounding every bit as cheesy as a television game show host. “But your choice of destination will be directly determined by your relative success or failure yonder,” he executed a stage-worthy ‘after you’ sweeping arm gesture in the direction of the mysterious valley. “And if somehow you do make it, you’re not king of anything anymore. We’re all on first-name basis here – what do people normally call you? J? Jarey?”  
  
“Jareth.”  
  
“Jarey it is,” Luke smiled insolently, following the former Goblin King downhill into the misty oblivion below.  
  
Sarah just stood there for a quiet moment, looking at the spot where both men had disappeared, listening for them. No sound came back up. Corwin walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.  
  
“I know you’re concerned about that flamboyant nut making it through, but you’re not responsible for what happens to him down there,” he stated gently. “You did everything you could for him – probably more than anyone ever should have – but remember that this crazy gamble was his idea in the first place. He knowingly steps into danger. Probably the best outcome would be if the Pattern changes its mind upon actually sensing him and physically prevents him from even setting foot on the line, in which case he would simply be dragged home by the Logrus eventually. Then again, if by some miracle he could make it, the Pattern might very well fix what’s wrong with his mind, from both the Logrus damage and the psychological isolation he’s been subjected to.”  
  
He stood beside her in silence a few moments longer, then remarked, “It’s past time I got you on down the road, kid; we don’t want your parents worried about where you’ve run off to. Come on,” he starting walking her over to the classic car.  
  
Sarah suddenly gasped. “Oh my gosh, I’d nearly forgotten about Shara!”  
  
“Shara?”  
  
“My… double,” Sarah awkwardly looked away. “Yeah, I’ve got one too, apparently, just of a different order; she’s a shadow like me. Mandor found her to take my place while I was gone in Chaos and I talked Merlin’s computer out of ferrying her home, offering to do it instead, but really just to buy time in order to do this. Would you mind terribly driving her home, too? I have very detailed notes of the route to take that the Ghostwheel left behind for me to use.”  
  
Corwin smirked a bit ruefully as he opened the passenger-side door for her, closing it after she climbed inside, walking around to the other side. “I’m not accustomed to being used as an inter-dimensional taxi service, but you’re really only asking for so little for yourself I should count myself lucky,” he said, opening the other door and taking his sword belt off, carefully depositing it at the foot of the front bench before sliding into the driver’s seat. “And believe you me, that second trip is going to be accompanied by a lengthy in-car lecture on the inherent dangers of taking any more world-jumping trips with magickally inclined strangers in the future – you are not setting a good example for her.” He put the key in the ignition and revved up the engine; turning away from the valley, they started across the lawn at a fairly slow speed. “Although I suppose that means there’s no rush. Was there anywhere else you’d like to visit along the way? Anywhere at all, even fictional? My treat, but just pick one or two – I have to get back to my post sometime this century.”  
  
Once Sarah would have leapt whole-heartedly at a chance like that, but everything that had happened to her over the past year, coupled with the past several hours, had left her feeling sick and disillusioned, jaded and tired.  
  
“Please just take me home,” she said quietly, closing her eyes, not wanting to see anymore.  
  
Corwin glanced over at her in concern but instantly read her mood and simply nodded, turning right. He would return her to Shadow Earth via a very leisurely route with almost imperceptible shadow-changes along the way to minimize the trauma; he could have her back by bedtime. Maybe that crazy sorcerer had had a point back there, he mused: in spite of everything she had been through, everything she had learned in Shadow and the Courts, Sarah was still very much a human child – and she was already being played as an adult pawn in the contest of the Powers. And she knew it. Neither of the ‘official’ ones really gave a shit about anyone, as far has he had ever been able to tell. At least he could protect her from both of them for a little while, he thought, watching her stare out the passenger-side window, overcome by curiosity anyway; he made sure there was a rainbow on that side of the vehicle when they came around the next hill before heading into the forest on a brand-new paved road.


	14. Amber Alert

Chapter 14 – Amber Alert  
  
Drifting through shadow-world after shadow-world, Sarah couldn’t help but watch the constantly shifting tableau go on and on through the window – it was all too beautiful: lush jungles with dangling vines, crisp-aired forests, a brief misty mountain range with wild heather on the hills – Ghost-Corwin was certainly pulling out all the stops for this one walk… er, drive. But even as wonderfully distracting as all the peacefully changing stimuli was, she simply couldn’t stop thinking about Brand.  
  
_Ghost-Brand_ , she corrected herself; his original had met his demise over a decade ago, Shadow-Earth reckoning. But it was like it had just been today, only a couple hours ago; she couldn’t shake the feeling. What was worse was that she felt party to it in an indirect way, remaining silent before the oncoming death blow that she saw heading for him – even while she knew perfectly well that that strike had preempted Ghost-Corwin’s own unmaking, that Brand had been seconds from accomplishing; that possibility, too, was unthinkable. The whole affair certainly didn’t sit well in her stomach or her brain, and she felt more than a little sick and guilty to top it off; she didn’t really know how to deal with it.  
  
Their vintage cherry Chevy had just emerged from a steep, rocky gorge, the sky ahead had unexpectedly shaded Amber blue – the perfect compliment to the still, tranquil lake that had materialized to their left, dotted with graceful golden swans – when she finally screwed up her nerve to break the silence; Corwin had not attempted to speak with her since they first got in the car, whenever that had been, sensing her need for mental and emotional rest.  
  
“Your Highness?”  
  
Corwin smiled briefly. The water sparkled; Sarah blinked and it was normal again.  
  
_Or maybe I shouldn’t risk distracting him_ , she retroactively reprimanded herself.  
  
“Go ahead and call me Carl – it’s the most recent of a string of aliases I used for many years on your Earth. Carl Corey.”  
  
“Carl,” Sarah quietly tried out the name – it seemed too… mundane, too simple, for the man out of legend sitting beside her on the old bench-style front seat, placidly handling the BelAir as if they were out for nothing more spectacular than a Sunday cruise. “Carl, would you be irritated with me if I asked you a question?”  
  
He hesitated for only a second.  
  
“About Brand, you mean.” He sighed then, but he didn’t sound upset, just tired of having to deal with him, even in death. “Go on, kid, ask away. As you can doubtless tell, he’s not my favorite topic, but it’s reasonable that you have questions at the very least at this point. It’s alright.”  
  
Sarah took a deep breath, not quite sure how to tactfully broach this. “I do know something of your family history from my mandatory studies in Chaos – I’m sure some of those facts have been skewed to paint the Courts in a more favorable light at certain points, but I had also been taught that Prince Brand was, well… crazy,” she winced a little at the word, “but that’s such a vague term…”  
  
Corwin turned off the road again, left, onto a hardened dirt track through a field of wildflowers; Sarah couldn’t identify any of them, but the rolled down windows let in the sweet, clean scent. And it wasn’t narcotic, either, she well-noted, hating the fact that she had that basic suspicion as a preset now.  
  
“You’re asking me what was actually wrong with him.”  
  
She nodded. The flowers gradually gave way to tall bluegrass.  
  
“I do feel the need to preface this by saying that even had his ailment been known early enough in his life for it to have been successfully treated, there would still have been a very good chance that it would have never happened anyway. For a scion of the Unicorn to be found to have a serious defect – physical or mental – was unthinkable, an idea held as nearly blasphemous for many long ages. Any and all signs of weakness in our family have always been carefully hidden, even from each other, to the best of our personal abilities; the thought that this mode of behavior is ‘unhealthy’ is a relatively new one and still not readily accepted – even if it is true.” He paused, seeming to collect his thoughts – and to make further adjustments to the landscape; they had just crossed an old-fashioned, covered wooden bridge over a creek, and rich autumn was on the other side, the trees blazing with cheery shades of red and orange, warm light filtering through.  
  
“I suppose one could say he suffered from a form of manic depression his entire life – I can’t personally recall his ever being any different, and I was many years his senior. Ever since childhood he was prone to long bouts of dark moodiness interspersed with almost disturbing bursts of energy and creativity. As he grew older, his eccentricity slowly matured with him, as did his artistic bent – he showed a great talent for painting from an early age, which was nurtured and refined in his tutoring – and it was not unusual for him to lock himself away in his rooms for days at a time, allowing no one entry – not even for provisions. When a servant was finally rung for, they would invariably find a freshly-finished canvas standing on his easel and himself worn to exhaustion, often passed out somewhere other than his bed; his muse was a hard and cruel mistress, not even allowing him to sleep when that relentless compulsion to create was upon him. There were a small handful of instances when the canvas had been savagely shredded - not up to his expectations - and then he would be despondent for weeks. But he wasn’t affected at this level all the time. We were never close – it was difficult for anyone to truly develop any meaningful relationship with him, even his full-blood siblings – but I will confess in retrospect that there were a fair number of times in the old days when we were all still young that I sort of admired him after a fashion. My general feeling toward him was usually ambivalence; he was too intemperate for anything further, and his inflated ego did nothing to help the situation.” The leaves on the larger trees had been shading to an unnatural purple, but the car had just turned off the road again and they were quickly left behind, replaced with groves of blue aspens with silver trunks.  
  
“Brand was genuinely the smartest of us, besides; he was prodigious at many types of learning, but he, along with his older sister Fiona, showed a particular sensitivity for the arcane, and our esteemed Chaosian-bred grandfather was only too pleased to bestow upon them practically everything that he knew, that they could understand or utilize.” He frowned, shaking his head. “I sincerely wish he hadn’t; he unwittingly instilled in both of them a certain flippant fearlessness where the Courts were concerned. I am convinced that none of my stepmother Clarissa’s children would have initiated the game they did with the more radical Chaos lords if they had been taught any better.” He paused to roll up his window and Sarah did the same on her side; they were coming into a light fog.  
  
“My family situation had been degenerating for a while in our father’s persistence in refusing to name an heir. I will not plague you with my entire life’s story, but suffice to say I was deliberately stranded on purpose on your home shadow with complete amnesia brought on by an illness contracted there that no one else could have ever survived, and subsequently lived there for well over a third of my adult life. I only bring up the point because I’ve had a lot of time to think about this particular episode – the end of it, I mean, right before all hell broke loose on Order – and I think Brand may have actually been right on the verge of attempting to get real psychiatric help; his course of action simply doesn’t make sense any other way. I had no clue at the time of just how out-of-control things had gotten between my siblings in my father’s absence from Amber – which had also been arranged, mind you – and I just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time to run into Brand again. Long story short, a couple of my dear brothers and one sister attempted to take me out of the contention for the throne in an automobile accident; it doesn’t get anymore intentional than shooting out a guy’s tires. They would have succeeded, too, if it hadn’t been for him. He had to fish me out of a lake to save my life, but once I was in his possession, still unconscious, he must’ve realized that he had just the guinea pig he so desperately needed to try something out on before risking his own body and brain. I only found out about this long after the fact, but he had already been in the process of secretly gaining extra powers, and at the time of my ‘accident’ he was nearing a level that seriously tipped the balance of his already delicate mind; his heightened mania and depressive episodes had to have become unbearable if my own family members were starting to fear him. He actually had me admitted to a sanitarium posing as a Dr. B. Rand and personally put me through two rounds of electroshock therapy, just to see how I would physically and mentally handle it. He was undoubtedly scared by the idea of taking pills; if any of his enemies ever caught wind of the fact that he was regularly ingesting medication, he was a dead man and he knew it – too easy to introduce poison. As outdated and barbaric as it was even then, EST really seemed like a safer, longer-term solution for his depression, one that he could carefully oversee and control, even if he had to construct a private shadow to do it in.”  
  
“But the current wiped my memory completely blank – everything I had experienced and learned since the illness, centuries worth – a rare outcome, even for normal adult humans who undergo the procedure, and the result had to have scared him off. The children and grandchildren of the Unicorn can recover from any physical damage, even regenerating body parts given sufficient time, but he knew that time was against all of us at that point and far more acutely than any of us could’ve imagined. In all honesty, I think he would’ve actually been far more dangerous if he had gone through with it, but we’ll never know now whether he made the right choice or not there. What he did choose to do to himself in the end was infinitely worse: it completely robbed him of his humanity, of any remaining empathy he might have felt toward anyone or anything. He became almost like a demigod, a powerful monster with dangerous delusions of grandeur. Because of him and him alone all of existence briefly hung in the balance – and we did what had to be done to set things right.”  
  
As he finished telling the story, a look had come over Corwin, as if he felt the weight of the entire universe shoving down upon his shoulders as he resolutely gazed ahead, willing the now golden-and-white aspens about them to turn to prairie once more, the dried grass shimmering gold in the warm early-afternoon sunlight. He looked ancient.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Sarah offered quietly.  
  
He nodded once in acknowledgement but said nothing. There was awkward silence in the cabin again as the road narrowed and began to wind through low hills; they nearly startled a grazing ten-point buck, but he easily bounded across the dirt road ahead of them, unscathed.  
  
“For what it’s worth,” Corwin added, “I think I prefer your method of disposing of unwanted siblings,” he wryly quipped. “At least it’s unique.”  
  
But it was the wrong joke to make and he quickly realized it, seeing Sarah reflexively look away again out the passenger-side window, and he wisely dropped the subject, focusing completely on the shifts. The rippling gold grasses fluttered and swam before Sarah’s eyes briefly – and then their perspective changed and the car was driving along a beach with a golden ocean instead. The sand was black…  
  
“I know this shadow!” she suddenly exclaimed in surprised delight, craning around to see out the back window; the blue horses were nowhere to be seen, though. “We passed through this way the first time!”  
  
“It is pretty,” Corwin conceded, “but I wouldn’t stop to take a dip in that ocean – I’m almost certain it isn’t liquid water, look at the wave motion; it’s a thicker substance.”  
  
Sarah would have never thought to study it in this manner but he was right; it did seem to have a certain viscosity to it – there was a distinctively odd pulling action to those waves. In the space of a few breaths it had morphed into a sea of daffodils and green as they rolled on through yet another inland world. Little birds were singing complicated songs in call-and-response.  
  
“You said you lived on Shadow Earth for a long time,” Sarah tentatively began again. “What all were you doing there if you couldn’t even remember who you were? Didn’t your long lifespan make you suspicious?”  
  
The field of flowers abruptly burst into bright monarch butterflies - making her gasp - revealing an elegantly simple slate-gray desert with charred lichen on the large rock outcroppings.  
  
“Suspicious of what? All that I knew was that I was different and that the very few people who noticed it were usually terrified of me. So I hid my seeming immortality as best I could, changing my name and moving every so often, working to be less conspicuous. But my temperament and sense of instinct had remained basically intact, to the point that – somehow – I knew that I had received some form of military training in my blanked-out past, and I allowed this to guide my life for many Earth centuries, working for this country or that as the whim and pay suited me; I also intuited that I didn’t hail from any of them. I’ve even done work as a revolutionary guerilla and a spy on rare occasion.  
  
“Really? Who were you fighting?” Sarah was genuinely intrigued by now, barely even noticing the shifts at this point; Carl (nee Corwin) noted this well and speeded up the progression slightly. They were making decent time as it was.  
  
“It would be easier to tally up a short list of the western wars and military-political conflicts since Europe’s so-called ‘dark age’ that I have not been a part of in some way or another,” he smirked. “I’ve fought Germans, Russians, the American Union army strictly for kicks before joining the Allies just in time to fight Germans again - and many American campaigns abroad in Asia, Africa, and the Middle East after that.” He abruptly stopped; when he spoke again there was absolutely no emotion at all in his facial features, but his voice sounded distant, as if he were remembering. “I’ve spent too many lives killing,” he began again seriously, “too many other men’s lives, in too many places, different shadows. Such a thing would not trouble any of my brothers, does not; I believe my long stint in your world changed me to a certain degree. In any event, the freedom and relative anonymity of your home country had its appeal; my last house was in Westchester, New York.”  
  
“Hey, that’s right across the river from me! I’m in Nyack!”  
  
“Like I said, I’m very familiar with where we’re headed today,” he smiled a little. “I might even stop by the old place to see who bought it when I’m through with you two.”  
  
“Do you have any other favorite places? That you lived, I mean.”  
  
A decided look of bittersweet longing came over him. “Paris in 1900. And the shadow that once contained Avalon – I ruled there for a time. But that was ages ago.”  
  
_Avalon!_ Sarah had to stifle the desperate urge to pepper him with questions just now – he needed to be able to concentrate on what he was doing. As frustrating as it was, simpler topics were best, she remembered, assuming that he himself wouldn’t bring up distracting memories. Anything more involved could have a detrimental effect on their travel. She inwardly sighed, resigning the topic for a rest stop, whenever that was going to be. “So…you’ve always worked as a soldier on Earth, then?”  
  
“Not quite. Inbetween military campaigns, I’ve worked as a doctor, and after World War II I was a columnist for a London newspaper for a while,” he nearly laughed. “I’ve been married twice on Earth; outlived them both – natural deaths. Happily both times, for the most part. It was harder to guarantee in the old days with the first one than it was with the second, but I was scrupulously careful not to sire any children by either of them; the thought that I might be capable of passing my inexplicable agelessness on to possible offspring scared me to death, not even understanding the enigma myself. Merlin, on the other hand…” he trailed off for a moment, turning right against an orangish sun that was just a little too oblong; there had been a distant warmth in his voice as he said that name. “My Chaosian-bred son was the by-product of a very fleetingly brief, ill-thought-out affair…orchestrated by my father, no less,” he frowned with an almost amused expression in spite of himself; that last piece of information Sarah hadn’t known! “My old man knew me far too well, knew that I’d fall for the girl and achieve his ends: the deliberate strengthening of the Barimen bloodline, along with my claim to the throne.”  
  
“But the relationship ultimately foundered when I refused to be his pawn, refusing the lady the queenship of Amber in the bargain. I’d like to delude myself into thinking I meant more to her than that but I’m no fool. Well… you can guess just how angry she was with my original to have him privately imprisoned after the signing of the treaty between Chaos and Amber. Politics nothing, that was a personal vendetta nearly worthy of the few drops of Barimen blood in her fire-filled veins – oh yes, we are related, apparently, albeit several generations distant. It’s technically impossible to calculate either of our respective ages, though, not to mention pointless at this stage of the game. It was fun while it lasted, but it’s over. I’m only relieved that she was a halfway decent mother to my son, at least by his own report, outside of any of her continued power-grabbing schemes.”  
  
Sarah was still watching him as he talked. “I can see him in you,” she noted.  
  
“And vice-versa, I sincerely hope?”  
  
“Well, yes,” she laughed.  
  
Corwin glanced at Sarah for a second before turning on the windshield wipers; it had begun to rain. “Do you resemble one of your parents more strongly than the other?”  
  
“I’m more like my mom,” Sarah rolled her eyes with a sad smile, thinking of her biological mother, the self-centered dreamer with stars in her eyes. “Although I’m starting to question that, too.”  
  
“How so?”  
  
But Sarah just shook her head, waiving off the question; she wasn’t even sure of what to make of the hunch herself just yet; she wasn’t ready to broadcast her peculiar doubts and suspicions to the world-at-large with no solid proof.  
  
The rain occluded the general vision of the road ahead, but the phenomena itself was so mundane it was oddly comforting. At least the wheels seemed to have good tread. There was no further sound in the cabin for a long time apart from large droplets of water pattering against the windows and the solid-steel body of the vehicle. Was that a big windmill out there in the distance? It was difficult to judge with the weather behaving like this. The more she thought about it, this was rather likely another trick to shift the shadows more quickly than just a natural downpour. As the sky cleared again, Sarah’s eyes widened involuntarily – it seemed almost as if that precipitation had swept the entire landscape as smooth as polished, colorless glass! Above them the sky had shaded a striking deep violet, but the sun still shone brightly as ever, creating a terrible glare on the ‘land’!  
  
“I’m sorry if this one is a little unnerving,” Corwin apologized, “but we’ll get nowhere if I keep gentling the shifts like I have been. I need to make a few major ones if we’re going to make sufficient headway on this journey of ours. Do you want me to give you a heads up when its time for the others?” The glass plain was already morphing into clear gravel; sinuous skyscrapers twisted about each other in the distance.  
  
Sarah shook off the effect; no matter how many times she saw phenomena like this, she still reacted annoyingly like a newbie. “It’s okay, really,” she reassured him, “now that I know and can be expecting it.” She suddenly thought to wonder just how far she had traveled with Mandor during that first ‘day’; they had obviously covered a considerable distance, but he had also made it remain sufficiently light for what felt like a rather unnatural amount of time. “About how long do you think it will be before we reach Earth? Not that I’m trying to rush you or anything…”  
  
“Well,” Corwin looked thoughtful, not taking his eyes off the sparkling road as the sky began to lighten again, “provided we don’t run into any unforeseen roadblocks or other kinds of trouble, I’m planning on gaining your home shadow by about late-evening there; we’re still a long ways off yet. You’re on your own for sneaking into your own house and smuggling your double back out, though – the last thing you need is for your parents to find you running around with a much older man, not to mention that you’ve suddenly become twins,” he slyly smiled. “We’ll have to stop to get dinner for you and gas for the car inbetween. What kind of food do you like? If you can give me some ideas now, I can try to chart our course to suit to a certain degree.”  
  
“Nothing sounds good,” Sarah shook her head listlessly, sort of wondering if her appetite would ever return.  
  
“I’m warning you, if you leave the decision up to me you might wind up with something rather exotic; there’s a place out here that I haven’t been to in years that sells the most fantastic chicken-fried-dinosaur, and in a wide variety of species, too.”  
  
Sarah stared at him. “You’re kidding me.”  
  
Corwin just laughed at her reaction. “As people would say in your country, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. That’s where we’re stopping to refuel unless you tell me otherwise.”  
  
Sarah had grown rather used to the idea of bizarre, alien worlds existing out in the depths of shadow, but the viable possibility of traveling to an alternate Earth prehistory was surprisingly sobering. The past, the future, and every present imaginable – all of it was out there, somewhere, just waiting to be explored. She’d nearly forgotten that, having stayed on the Chaos-side of things too long with nothing of she could recognize as such. The thought made her unexpectedly feel very, very small and insignificant, one little shadow adrift with a ghost in a sea of realities that might or might not be totally ‘real’; just watching them all go by felt mildly hallucinatory, thinking of the nature of what it really was that she was seeing. And she herself was a part of that grand delirium – all twenty of her or so. She had never been able to learn the precise number of her doubles from Mandor; the one time she had ever thought of it, the ring had been off, she realized now, thinking back, and with it back on the idea simply melted away like so many others had in those strange, blurry days in the darkness.  
  
As they headed into verdant, mountainous country again, a sound not unlike continuous rolling thunder could be heard even with the windows closed, but Sarah couldn’t ascertain its source for nearly half-an-hour, and the sound grew progressively louder as they climbed, the air growing thinner with the altitude. It incongruously came into view without warning on a repeated switchback, though: it was a large waterfall – or, rather, a waterrise, the entire prospect running crazily in reverse like a geyser straight up the side of a rocky cliff-face, culminating in a lazily meandering river that ran sedately uphill at the pinnacle! Corwin drove alongside the backwards body of water for a time while large, parrot-green wading birds let little fishes escape alive from their large, deep-blue stork-like bills. Even in the meticulously maintained ‘earth-coloring’, the sight was awe-inspiring and nightmarish at once. Sarah nearly wished that she had some kind of mind-numbingly mundane homework to keep her brain occupied; even in Chaos there had been complicated arithmetic problems and long essay questions.  
  
But there was one bastion of surprising normalcy right at her fingertips that she had nearly forgotten; reaching forward, Sarah turned on the old-fashioned dial radio quietly and commenced slowly tuning through the AM frequencies (there was no FM on the deck), starting from the bottom. Static and fuzz were her only reward for a while but she felt relatively hopeful in the enterprise, with their being on the Order-side of shadow and all. She soon felt the prince’s mildly amused attention and she turned to him.  
  
“What? You can get a handful of interesting stations out here for a few seconds each if you’re lucky; it shows which shadows are technologically inhabited. Unless it’s going to distract you – sorry, I should’ve asked if it was all right first.”  
  
Corwin quietly chuckled, shaking his head, his gaze forward again. “I keep forgetting you’ve done this before. Head up toward the top of the dial.”  
  
Curious, Sarah quickly rolled the tuner to the right – and suddenly stopped at the sound of blaring electric instrumentation with a gypsyish beat and strong, gravelly male vocals… in English?! It was a definitely heavy metal song! She slowly turned to Corwin in mute amazement. Had he just done that?!  
  
Her companion’s own expression was rather blasé. “What? I thought you might like it – young Chaosian culture and all that; apropos, anyway. I’m sure I can find us something more sedate. This, too, can be altered in shadow. But of course you already knew that,” he commented coolly with just the slightest hint of dry sarcasm as he took the knob himself and adjusted the station down a few bandwidths; soon a lighthearted, orchestral march that might’ve been composed by an alien cousin five-times-removed from Sir Arthur Sullivan commenced piping through the antiquated speaker system – and Corwin was actually humming along quietly! Sarah ruefully smirked, looking away again, knowing she’d been had. Granted, that was a pretty neat trick, but it was still showing off, especially with how well the station was holding steady and clear as they rolled through several obviously different shadow-worlds in dovetail succession. The river gradually iced over and big flakes of snow commenced drifting by as the outside temperature took a marked dive; Corwin reached behind to the back seat without turning around and grabbed his cloak, thrusting the bundled fabric into a shivering Sarah’s lap, his only offhanded comment being, “thermostat’s broken.”  
  
Sarah quickly unrolled it and folded it over herself – they could see their breath in the cabin. The cloth wasn’t terribly warm but it was better than nothing. She tried breathing through a thin section of it; the windshield kept fogging up. Traveling on through nearly featureless frosted tundra with only the soft radio to break the silence, there were fleeting glimpses of alien ground fauna that kept appearing and disappearing every so many yards, moving too quickly to be properly seen, changing along with the world. The ice was melting but the ground ahead looked like moonscape, all cratered and gray; perfectly white, winged dragons soared gracefully in the updrafts, chasing each other off the edge of the map. They lost them after a while as the dead land took on a volcanic aspect, heating to the point that they would’ve rolled down the windows if it had been safe (of course it wasn’t), but it cooled soon enough, the sun taking a break behind the debris-thick cloud cover as viable soil made a comeback along with colorful lichen. One could almost imagine the evolution of the world out here, or even recreate it, a thought that was surprisingly moving. All of life was here – not just life but life-force, something far grander - to pick and choose at will buffet-style on one’s way to wherever.  
  
Corwin abruptly turned the radio off right in the middle of a song; the sky had shaded from an almost normal, light Order-blue to a distinctive shade of teal. After a few minutes of no sound at all but a moderate wind that pushed the dark thunderheads safely to their south, the tint corrected again over the rocky, humid moors they traversed. Sarah would’ve been very worried at this point – there were no landmarks or qualities that were not still shifting – if it hadn’t been for her companion’s quiet, dead-on confidence in where he was taking them; it was sort of awe-inspiring in its own right. The moors began to dry, getting a bit cooler as they traveled uphill, the white sun hanging lower; it was mid-afternoon somewhere. Or was it mid-morning? Who could tell anymore? The ghost-prince turned left at a crossroads: Sarah looked up just in time to see a pale-green apparition of an enormous, cloaked woman hovering above it, her giant-like arm pointing in the direction he had chosen; she saw the girl staring up at her, but her own face remained expressionless, passive as the allegorical figure of Justice, vanishing from view as they commenced a gentle descent into yet another lush, slightly off-color valley.  
  
“Carl, would it distract you too much if I asked you something about what you’re doing right now?”  
  
He shrugged. “Not particularly at this point. What did you want to know?”  
  
“…how do you always know precisely how to find your way home like this?”  
  
‘Carl Corey’ gave her a sad half-smile. “My own method wouldn’t help you, kid. Amber’s too different of a destination to compare anything else to. It would be like trying to use another star to navigate by on Earth as if it were Polaris.”  
  
“I kinda figured,” Sarah sighed. “Just thought I’d ask; if anybody knew this, a prince of Amber would. I’ve successfully accomplished short ‘walks’ accompanied, but it was always really tricky; it seems like this is a lot more natural for you.”  
  
“That’s because it is,” he answered simply. “You’re also seeing well over a millennium of practice here, although there is an additional internal acumen – oh, how to describe it…” he trailed off, thinking. “I suppose it’s a specialized kind of affinity, Sarah,” he said at length as jagged, yellowstone cliffs jutted out sideways to the left of the road, uplifted straight out of the ground, “the sort of affinity a person feels in their bones, their blood, a resonance to one’s own heartbeat. It transcends absolute confidence: it is confidence in the Absolute – which is Order, for me at any rate. I’m not entirely sure of what that might translate to for you, with your different ‘alignment’, whether…”  
  
Sarah knew he was still discoursing to her, but she suddenly realized that her current stimuli was gradually being overridden by a powerful trump call. Which could only be one person…  
  
“Carl, pull over!”  
  
“What?! What’s wrong?”  
  
But she waved him silent as Merlin’s humanoid visage clarified in her mind’s eye.  
  
“Finally!” the king of Chaos exclaimed; he was standing, but it was hard to see where. Probably inside the Thelbane; the background was dark and shiny. “Thank the powers you’re safe, that I was able to reach you fast enough! I can see that you’re probably with someone in public, but you’ve got to come to me right this instant; we can wipe memories later – it’s that important. Just give me your hand!”  
  
“What in the world is going on?!”  
  
“No time! I’ll explain once you get here.”  
  
Here. Chaos proper. Sarah shuddered.  
  
“With all due respect, your Excellency, I think I’d rather hear about it now.”  
  
Merlin gave an aggravated sigh. “Sarah, this isn’t multiple choice! I’m protecting you as one of my subjects who’s in imminent danger if I don’t! I made King Random swear-”  
  
Sarah felt a strong hand grasp her left shoulder – but it wasn’t Merlin’s.  
  
“Easy there, son; she’s with me,” Corwin calmly answered Merlin’s panicked look - which quickly turned to confusion.  
  
“Dad? What in Chaos are you doing with…” he rapidly pointed between the two of them.  
  
“Why don’t you go first? You looked half-hysterical with worry a second ago. Care to fill your old man in, too?”  
  
Merlin only stared at him a second longer before exhaling, defeated, looking terribly spent. “The Left Eye of the Serpent – the Jewel of Judgment – disappeared from King Random’s private quarters in Castle Amber just this morning, maybe all of half-an-hour ago there. It simply vanished! No arcane or mundane signs of a break-in, just gone like that! Which immediately casts suspicion on us – that level of magic is simply not taught in Order, and it is only known in Chaos in the higher echelons. Sarah was the last Chaosian spy to have made it successfully into Amber, and with my personal help, no less. By proxy, she’s still suspect number one in spite of the fact that I’ve loaned Random the Ghostwheel’s services in aiding the multi-shadow hew-and-cry for the real culprits as a gesture of continued good-faith. Ghost has reported back to me numerous times already, though: the trail is cold – in fact, it looks like there never was one! And the Jewel is proving impossible to track, too; it’s deliberately being hidden and not used, which would also point to us – anyone else would have been tempted by the power or at least attempted the personal attunement by now. Amber’s secret forces are descending upon Shadow Earth New York as we speak, specially equipped to track down and arrest you! But they can’t if I get to you first – that was our agreement. I can tell my uncle to call them off just as soon as you join me. I promise we’re going to make this okay; you’re going to be all right! Just give me your hand and I’ll pull you through into the Ways of Sawall. It’s technically house-arrest, but you’ll be well taken care of on this end until we sort this out; I’ve already seen to all the necessary preparations myself.”  
  
Sarah was half in shock, listening to the king of Chaos nervously rambling on and on. It didn’t seem real. She was suddenly very worried that she had left Shara right where she was! What if they found and arrested her double instead?!  
  
And then the full idea suddenly exploded like fireworks in her brain as all the odd pieces of the immense puzzle abruptly shook loose and fell into place. Her eyes widened. She almost couldn’t breathe.  
  
“Sarah! What is it?!”  
  
She finally knew the awful truth. And what she had to do about it in consequence. She looked into the king’s desperate, sincere, caring dark eyes.  
  
“Merlin…forgive me.”  
  
And with that she started blocking the trump contact for all she was worth, with all the reserves she had!  
  
“Are you crazy?!” Corwin roared.  
  
“He’s way too strong!” she screamed, feeling a tentative hand on her right arm. “Help me break the call!”  
  
A powerful sense of nothingness ripped through her consciousness – she almost passed out – and just as abruptly it was gone. Corwin’s hand was still on her shoulder.  
  
“You just threw away your one lifeline to safety!” he roundly scolded her. “If you think for one moment that I’m about to help you run away from both powers-”  
  
“You’ve got to get me back to the Labyrinth right now!”  
  
“Why there?!”  
  
“Because that’s where she is! My original! I know she’s there! Because if she isn’t there already we might be able to intercept her before anyone else possibly could!”  
  
Corwin looked pissed but he was revving the engine, both hands on the wheel. Still half a tank of gas left.  
  
“Hang on tight and close your eyes, kid!”  
  
Sarah didn’t have to be told twice; she tightened her seatbelt to the point of discomfort and both closed and covered her eyes, desperately trying to imagine that blissful little pastoral shadow Mandor had made for her – her literal ‘happy place’ – rather than risk taking in any stimuli from the imminent hellride as the tires squealed on the pavement, the force of the burst of speed shoving her back in the seat. Collector’s item or not, this was an old car and the prince was currently riding it right up to its physical limits. Muffled sounds from outside were nearly drowned out by the whine of the engine in high-gear, the sound of the tires on the pavement. Unable to concentrate on her visualization in a matter of seconds, Sarah started to count the actual seconds that this insane transit was taking them.  
  
There were only a handful of ways to return the Eye to the Serpent, Sarah had been taught, but they all involved either navigating the Logrus or dealing with the direct incarnation of that power. All were dangerous, if not next-to-impossible, and while there had been a handful of historical attempts, the action was only an academic theory to all but the most radical of the Lords – the ones bent on returning the universes (and themselves) to absolute Chaos. It amounted to the total destruction of reality as anyone knew it; the course of action was unconscionable even to the vast majority of the Courts. But there were always a few crazies floating around out there…  
  
Sarah had made it up to 38 seconds when the car screeched to a sudden halt, nearly throwing her forward; there were no shoulder belts. She cautiously peeked through her fingers…  
  
The outer wall of the Labyrinth stood before them. The thick, wooden gates were standing wide open. They swung closed of their own accord.  
  
“We’re too late,” Sarah moaned, holding her head in her hands.  
  
“I think you’d better trump Merlin back right now and tell him what’s happened,” Corwin sternly advised. “He needs to know. He might even know how to stop her – this is his territory, after all.”  
  
Sarah unbuckled (that sudden stop was going to leave a mark – ow) and untucked her blouse to get at her trump deck… then she irritatedly unbuckled the whole contraption from around her abdomen – the straps had been digging into her back just now – taking it off and securing it to her hip. If she was going to prison, she was going comfortably. She extracted the correct trump…and paused. True, this might technically be Chaosian territory, but even for real Chaosians – even their king, or Lord Suhuy the Keeper – the Logrus was no-man’s land, belonging to no one, dangerous to all, as much of a threat to its own initiates as to its foes.  
  
And it was only walked once; that much had been drilled into her. And that journey through the true one resulted in death or permanent madness roughly 40% of the time. The odds were even worse for the Fixed Logri. And this was the worst copy. It was a small miracle that Sarah had survived at all her first time through.  
  
Or was it a miracle? Was it something else altogether? She had certainly been made to play a significant part in what was currently going down, what with getting Jareth out of the way for the next runner. The thought alone made her shiver…  
  
“Sarah,” Corwin gently broke her distraught reverie, “the call. Make it.”  
  
Sarah turned to look at him. “It won’t do anyone any good,” she answered him, calmly, rationally. Purposefully. Her mind was nearly made up. “He can’t go in there. He can’t legally force anyone to follow her in. It’s almost a guaranteed suicide run, even if they made it. And there’s no way to trump in or out of the trial proper even if they catch up with her and intercept the Eye. Nobody will do it. And if she actually makes it to the center with the wretched thing, we’re all as good as dead anyway.” She casually opened the car door, trying to gauge how far the gates were from here. There was something about this scenario that almost seemed to click; memories of her physical training on Suhuy’s practice shadows were rapidly flashing by. The obstacle courses – those long, twisting corridors, the incongruent sections of living topiary, the strange creatures she had to outmaneuver or bespell…  
  
Corwin grabbed her arm. “No. I know what you’re considering, and while the sacrifice would be both noble and heroic, chances are you’d be dead within the first five paces. What would that accomplish?”  
  
“More than sitting here worrying to death while she’s running that stupid maze!” Sarah wrenched herself free, practically leaping out of the car, making a dash for the wall; she had half-expected him to try to hinder her. She was sure of her choice now.  
  
“Sarah, stop!”  
  
She involuntarily froze in her tracks, feeling the ghost-prince’s strong will bearing down heavily upon her own.  
  
“This choice doesn’t just affect you! Think of the consequences of your actions! What of your family? Your friends?”  
  
“Who the hell is going to even miss me? My dog?” she laughed a little desperately, not even attempting to turn around; if she locked eyes with him like this, it was over. “They don’t even know I’m gone, remember? Shara can stay and have my life; she didn’t really want to go home anyway. Wait…what happens to the shadow-Sarahs beyond me downstream, so-to-speak, if I…”  
  
“That isn’t my main concern right now.”  
  
Sarah could hear him measuredly pacing towards her. There were only about twenty feet or so to the closed gate – was it just her imagination or were those doors slowly beginning to open outwards by a few millimeters?  
  
“It’s ‘nothing’, isn’t it!” she pressed. “We’re dependent on our original, not on each other! They’d be okay!”  
  
“Sarah,” Corwin’s voice had taken on that odd, commanding tone, “trump Merlin.”  
  
The card was still clutched tightly in her right hand, she felt her arm rising against her will, she couldn’t close her eyes against the image. This was it – it was now or never.  
  
Sarah ceased resisting Corwin’s will just long enough to begin to activate the trump connection, then, with her redirected willpower, spun around on her heel and, with the strength she had left, thrust the activated image between them, effectively breaking his concentration as Merlin flared to life on the other end, blocking the outside world for him! “Tell him I’m going to catch that miserable little brat if it’s the last thing I do!” she yelled, sprinting for the opening gates. “And if he has any complaints, he can go beat down Lord Suhuy’s door: he’s the one who trained me to do this!”  
  
“Sarah, don’t!”  
  
But she had already passed through that ominous portal; Corwin heard the gates swing shut again.  
  
“Dad,” Merlin began dubiously, arms crossed, “where is she? I think you know what’s going on here.”  
  
Ghost-Corwin pitied his son; his entire world was about to come crashing down about his ears.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Sarah noted three things immediately upon her second entry into the Labyrinth: firstly, that it was ever-so-slightly more difficult to think in here (an effect that she had been far too panicked to even notice the first time), secondly, that her ears were sort of ringing, but it wasn’t tinnitus. It was this place; she had falsely associated the sound with Jareth before, but she recognized it for what it was now – and nearly thanked her lucky stars that the background noise levels in this far-distant copy did not follow those of the true Logrus, which were almost deafening toward the end, the cacophony of those terrible, unholy bells physically beating against the initiate. Even the course itself was jumbled up here, she now knew, with a part of the ‘end’ crazily pasted smack-dab in the middle!  
  
And Her; now that Sarah was attuned, the visceral sensation of the physical presence of the Logrus was almost overwhelming. And Sarah felt distinctly unwelcome here. She thought of addressing Her for a second, but quickly changed her mind; nothing she could say would make the situation any better (and would probably make things worse.) She knew why Sarah was here; that couldn’t be helped.  
  
A cool, dry breeze blew through the high-walled corridor in spite of the warm sun, stirring up the smell of decaying plant matter and mildew. Looking down to see if there was a noticeable difference in the paving stones in either direction, she suddenly noticed the golden light flaring brightly from inside her carryall…her brooch! She quickly dug it out of the inner pocket and pinned it above her heart – if for any reason she needed it in here, it had to be within easy access and immediate physical contact. Not that she was still terribly confident that she could control its hidden reserve of power…  
  
Repressing her trepidation, Sarah forced herself to focus on the task at hand: she had to get moving, but which way? Static as the Labyrinth was in many sections (which she had since been taught was also dangerous), the course changed every time. Would there be a way to pick up the other girl’s trail? Or was it better to simply attempt the correct course herself? Deciding on the latter (safety first… or, rather, third), she rapidly started off down the right corridor, remembering that she had to pace herself, imminent end-of-the-world or not; it would be if she tired herself out too fast!  
  
An idea suddenly occurred to her: her Logrus sight. As thoroughly useless as it had proven to be in the outside world, the one thing it showed well was mineral composition. Could she use it to ‘see’ the invisible openings in the walls of the mirage-straight outer corridor? It was worth a shot. At any rate, she’d find out in a hurry whether it was permissible or not for her to utilize her own power in here.  
  
Bracing herself both physically and mentally for one heck of a backlash, she performed the normal motions for bringing up her version of the Logrus – and saw the sign literally seep darkly out of the walls, coalescing before her as it never had before! No earthquakes accompanied or followed the phenomena, nor lightning nor mental confusion or terror, just the sign ebbing and flowing in midair before her, its ‘branches’ in constant motion, seemingly ready for use.  
  
_That’s something anyway_ , she thought, continuing down the passage with it preceding her, sticking her head through the doorways it revealed on both sides. There were so many! And only one of them was…well, ‘safe’ wasn’t quite the right word, but the alternatives led to tighter and tighter passages with no way back, culminating in being physically crushed to death. And they all looked pretty much the same at this stage. What was it that those propaganda-like Chaosian textbooks had said about the real one?  
  
‘Trust to no vision in the Place of Darkness; She alone will tell you where to go…’  
  
…the noise. Sarah stopped in her tracks – the ringing had been slightly louder through the doorway she had just passed by. Backtracking a few paces, she ducked through a hidden portal in the outer wall.  
  
_Of course_ , she smiled to herself. The ringing was still fairly faint, but nevertheless it was slightly more musical in this new passage. And slightly more defined heading in the ‘wrong’ direction. Dilapidated-looking brick-and-mortar walls gradually shifted into mortarless tan stone walls stacked twenty feet high as Sarah followed a series of odd switchbacks, the view starting to shimmer every now and again in time with her breathing…  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Merlin sank back into this chair after severing the remote trump contact, feeling a thousand years older than he was.  
  
It had happened. There was no way to stop it now. Was there even any point to warning anyone, of calling back in his agents out of shadow? Of telling King Random anything?  
  
Merlin had been right about this being a serious threat and they had still ultimately proven incapable of intercepting the guilty party! And with both sides, working together; that alone was sort of terrifying in retrospect. Which would suggest that something much larger than human or even superhuman agency – or organization – underlay this. It was nothing less than a direct power grab orchestrated by the Logrus Herself. Had they all just been sitting on a ticking time bomb and not even known it, lulled into relative complacency by the artificially maintained peace?  
  
Or had the new treaty proven the final insult to the Serpent? That ancient almost mythic argument with the Unicorn, stemming from time-immemorial, was the essence, the balance upon which life, as Merlin had come to recognize it, hung. Neither side could ever be allowed to truly win – it would mean widespread disaster, likely apocalypse for all of Shadow that fell inbetween, without that ongoing tension. Had the ceasefire between Chaos and Amber affected the powers more than either side had realized?  
  
There were only two men yet living who might be able to answer that question, the king of Chaos mused, and he was distantly related to both of them, although he was on better speaking terms with the one staying on this side of the Divide. And it had been intimated just now that that man was somehow culpable in part of for what was happening also, a thought that made Merlin even more uneasy if he stopped to examine it at all. Suhuy Swayvil – his great-great-great-great-great-great (…probably about twenty-three ‘greats’ or so, give or take a dozen) uncle, Keeper of the Logrus, had always been eminently sane and level-headed, even in spite of his almost constant contact with a power that made most people at least temporarily crazy if not downright permanently certifiable. What could’ve gone wrong enough to make him voluntarily party to universal destruction Merlin couldn’t even fathom.  
  
If it was voluntary…  
  
Without another thought, he produced his old, well-worn trump of his old, well-worn uncle and commenced establishing the link with the spikard; his near-constant use of the artifact was making his own magic lazy, but there was no time to worry about that right now. The contact was almost live…  
  
The contact was blacked out; the image on the trump simply vanished.  
  
“Uncle Suhuy! Can you hear me?”  
  
There was no response. And then came the eerie sound of a male voice, softly chuckling. Definitely not Suhuy.  
  
The contact was abruptly severed with a feeling akin to an electrical shock! Merlin involuntarily shot to his feet as it hit, unable to block it because it hadn’t been expected at all. Catching his breath, using the spikard to lower his speeding heartrate back down to normal, he gravely pocketed the trump and readied a Logrus shield, commencing the shift up into his usual powerform. Whoever was responsible for this certainly knew what they were doing, he’d grant that much. Maybe somebody had made the proverbial Faustian bargain; perhaps all the universes were to be the sacrifice. Or to be held for ransom. If they started with that sweet-natured old man, though, Merlin swore the culprit would be subjected to a long stint in one of Mandor’s flashier private hells; his elder brother had a real talent for making some fairly original torments.  
  
Mandor. The trump was in Merlin’s hand fast as thought; it took a few long minutes to activate it, however; he had to be pretty far away from the Courts. That was odd, too, for him…  
  
But Mandor wasn’t picking up, either; he actually was there on the other end - Merlin could sense his presence - but he was working about as hard as he possibly could to block the call. Merlin prepared to force it through with the spikard.  
  
“Mandor, this is Merlin! It’s urgent that I speak with you!”  
  
And then something even stranger happened: for just a split-second Merlin could’ve sworn there was a female presence on the other end along with his brother – and then the trump commenced emitting a rather mundane-sounding dial-tone, like a Shadow Earth telephone! The connection was gone. Merlin silenced the small, harmless spell and replaced that card also. He knew in his heart-of-hearts that he could never really trust his favorite brother, but he wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt at this extreme moment. If they really all were about to get snuffed, there was a fair chance that at least Mandor was going to go out happy; he always had had a taste for the talented-sorceress-type. Merlin wanted to think that was all it was: inopportune timing. But of course he couldn’t. That strong of a forced disconnect made him wonder. Only a handful of powers or artifacts could’ve overridden him that well without resorting to violence; Corwin’s Pattern in direct use was one, as were possibly some of the other spikards; more had been turning up in recent years. But that was a can of worms in itself.  
  
Merlin sighed and went for his uncle Random’s trump – then decided against telling him unless he was forced to. The front of the Death Storm that would soon be coming to devour the city of Amber would be message enough.  
  
_Let them enjoy one more frantic hour of hope_ , he thought, walking over to the bar to fix himself a drink, silently toasting to Order’s memory before tossing it off. He was due back at the Council and was now burdened with the rather unsavory and potentially volatile task of delivering the ‘good news’. He hoped he could at least talk them out of reneging on the Treaty for the sake of their troops in the sliver of a chance that any of habitable Chaos survived the inevitable fallout. The very last place he wanted them to be sent right now was out in Shadow. Anywhere.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
The stone corridors seemed endless in their spiraling, turning, meandering paths, their inane, seemingly pointless short flights of stairs up and down, but Sarah’s morale was actually just a little bit higher; her Logrus-sight was proving surprisingly useful under its ‘native’ circumstances, even showing up where some of the broken, or ‘fixed’, sections were so she could avoid them. Of course, there was no way of knowing how good of time she was making or how far ahead of her her original had gotten, which was still rather worrisome. The thought had occurred to her of seismically lifting up the ground where she was currently standing to see if she could get a better look around at where the girl really was in the course, but she quickly ruled out executing such a dangerous move… within the maze proper; it might work in the forest later on, though. If she could still think by then; she was getting the beginnings of a dull ache in the back of her head. Doing her best to ignore it, she was courageously pressing on, choosing from a branching series of adjacent corridors, when something briefly flashed by the opening of a track running parallel to the one she was on. She blinked – and ran, only to make a mad dash straight into the thing around a u-shaped turn!  
  
The three-foot high creature didn’t look properly goblinish somehow, but Sarah would’ve been at a loss as to what precisely to call it: the skin on the wrinkled face and long, gnarled hands with long nails was a brownish-gray that offset its dingy-white, grizzled hair. Long, pointed elvish ears stuck out from underneath a battered red bowler hat. A distinctively turquoise doglike nose, black pupil-less eyes and a ready grin that made Sarah instinctively nervous completed the whiskered visage. Its body was cloaked in a buttoned-up patchwork coat two sizes too large… and was that a tail just barely sticking out from beneath?  
  
“Top o’ the mornin’, miss!” he hailed her in a distinctly Irish-sounding brogue as she speechlessly stared him up and down, attempting to collect her wits and some form of a plan; her mind seemed to go spontaneously blank whenever he looked her in the eye, a fact that made the little fellow smile all the more.  
  
Quickly catching onto the effect, Sarah deliberately shut her eyes tight. Whatever this thing was, she probably shouldn’t trust it. “Good day,” she managed to reply, sounding more confident than she felt. “I don’t suppose you could tell me if you’ve seen a girl who could pass for my twin sister, running through this area not too long ago?”  
  
“Yer twin? Nay,” he chuckled dryly, “mayhap a few years younger, but not the prettier, I’ll be bound,” he backhandedly flattered her. “Am I that bad-looking of a fellow for a young sweet thing like yourself that you shut your bright eyes against me weathered old mug?”  
  
“It’s not the appearance but the effect,” she dared to call him out. “It isn’t terribly polite to do that to people.”  
  
She heard him chuckle again – from behind her! Opening her eyes in surprise, Sarah just barely stopped herself from turning around: there was no way he could’ve physically sidled past her just now! He had to be moving at will, a fact that immediately put her even further on her guard. If only she’d been better at racking and deploying spells! She actually did have one in reserve, she very belatedly remembered, but it was months old now and there was no knowing how the thing would work, let alone in here!  
  
“But it suits me down to the ground, it does,” he answered amiably enough, “lets me do most o’ the talkin’. Gobs can be so boring, I can tell ye! But you’re not marked a runner,” Sarah felt him poke the back of her left leg, “and the girl ye be followin’…” he whistled low, “wouldn’ta touched the prize she carried meself, but it’s a sore-tempting one, to be sure. That’s what you’re after. Course… I did see which turns she took from here,” his voice turned wheedling – from down a different passage to the right! As he stuck his head back around the corner, Sarah quickly shut her eyes tight again. It was queer, but she could swear she could literally feel his approval. “I can’t be seen leadin’ ya, me girl,” he said a little more quietly, confidentially. “Herself would… ya know.”  
  
Sarah knew indeed – no explanation needed there!  
  
“But I suppose I might walk a few paces behind ye, like I’m tailing, telling ye which way to turn and all that. For a fair price…”  
  
“What’s your idea of a fair price?” Sarah nearly slapped herself as soon as the words were out of he mouth: she’d just given him way too much room to bargain!  
  
“That’s a mighty fine deck o’ cards you’re caryin’…”  
  
Sarah’s hand immediately closed over her trump pouch; it had been a costly lesson but she’d actually learned it.  
  
“No,” she said firmly. Then ventured, “do you like jewelry?”  
  
“I do, indeed,” he licked his lips, “ but were ye thinkin’ of partin’ with yon brooch? Pawn me off cheap-like?”  
  
_How dumb does he hope I am?_ Sarah thought with a wry smile. “Actually, I was thinking of a ring that’s currently hidden on my person; the band is solid silver but I’ve never been certain of what the stone is - it’s black, though. And mildly enchanted, but not as much as when I first got it.” Talk about magical creature bait; she could fairly guess he wouldn’t be able to resist that. Sentimental value itself would be a thing of the past if she didn’t make it through in time. And the artifact didn’t seem to do much for her anymore anyway.  
  
“Let’s see it then, girl.” All of his ‘r’s were lightly rolled.  
  
Very carefully and quickly, Sarah extracted Mandor’s ring out of her trump pouch and slipped it on over the first knuckle of her pointer finger, secured with her thumb, holding it out to show him. She heard him sigh.  
  
“Oh, open yer eyes already; I won’t look up at ye.”  
  
Sarah cautiously cracked them open – and saw him standing right in front of her with his fists to his hips, staring closely at the ring. Gingerly taking her hand, he make a point of looking at the back of the band, his black eyes narrowed to slits, but he seemed satisfied as he let go of her.  
  
“I prefer gold meself, but for the little yer askin’, tis fair enough,” he nodded once. “Give it me, then pass three more crossings and turn left twice.”  
  
Sarah let him take it – and he looked up at her with a fierce grin! A slight shove brought her to; he was behind her now.  
  
“I couldn’t resist, girl,” he harshly laughed. “You’ll get to put up with me gabbin’ anyway. Quick now!”  
  
Sarah had a funny feeling that even if she had tried to evade this tricksy creature she wouldn’t have been able to. This shaky partnership, such as it was, was probably the best possible outcome.  
  
Or, at least it seemed so at first. His choices in direction were always perfectly confident, in fact he often chided her for not walking faster – the little fellow had a surprisingly long gait, like he was all legs under that motley quilt of a coat. Or was he flying? Sarah wasn’t about to look behind to find out. And gab he did – the whole time, barely pausing for breath, the effort involved physically inhuman! He obviously delighted in the sound of his own voice, discoursing on nothing, gossiping about the most outrageous things that had happened to other people here, breaking into the chorus of some bawdy tune before abruptly switching topics over and over again!  
  
But the longer she marched on ahead of him, Sarah was beginning to have some rather serious misgivings about the whole proposition besides an earache: it was simply taking too long to get through the outer maze. She hadn’t heard even a whisper of the Logrus-ringing in ages. True, certain sections of the Labyrinth had been constructed to look similar on purpose to confuse the runners, but she was certain that they had already passed his way twice, this time making a third round. And several of his previous signals had been so vague that Sarah had been forced to awkwardly backtrack backwards just to keep from seeing him.  
  
There was no mistaking where they were now; it was simply too familiar. She stopped.  
  
“What’re ye stoppin’ for, girl?! We’ve miles yet to go!”  
  
“You’ve been leading me in circles. We’ve passed this way three times,” she answered him calmly and civilly. One had to be rather careful not to anger these kinds of creatures.  
  
“We have so,” he replied rather matter-of-factly. “You wanted to know which way she went, and I’ve been showin’ ye right enough the way she took. The little twit was good and lost in here for hours, she was!” he sniggered wickedly under his breath. “Herself will thank me kindly for this easy favor.”  
  
Sarah turned on instinct at the sinister change in his tone of voice – and saw that he had risen in height to nearly six feet tall and had drawn a long, cruelly twisted blade from his long jacket, which now fit him like a glove! Her Logrus-sight simply faded away in that intense, countering blackness.  
  
“It was fun while it lasted, girl,” he whispered with a wink, and a sickening smile took over his features. Those teeth were very sharp…  
  
But the glint of the sun off the ornate gold inlay of his sword unexpectedly jogged the memory of the section of the Pattern that had danced brightly on Werewindle – and the spell broke! Sarah screamed and took off at a run, blindly diving down this corridor and that, adrenaline flooding her veins as her physical training and psychological conditioning kicked in, taking over. Hearing large, plodding footsteps pounding after her, she never once gave a thought to her direction – until she unexpectedly found herself in a large open section with an obelisk, carved with many stone hands pointing every-which-way possible and then some. She remembered it! Making a sharp five o’clock switchback, she shot down the passages, searching for the dead-end with the guarded doors. She had no idea of what she would do when she reached them, but even a vague sense of choice was better than certain death!  
  
_Certain death…_ The enclave had moved, of course – this being a functional section of the maze – but she discovered it readily enough. The goat-faced, playing-card-like guards looked positively astonished upon seeing her burst through in front of them.  
  
“It can’t be,” started Alph Blueshield, slowing shaking his head.  
  
The creature’s footfalls were less than half-a-hall away!  
  
“No time!” Sarah whispered, looking at Ralph Redcrest. “Open the door!”  
  
“Are you sure?” he asked dubiously, peeking out from behind his large shield at her sideways. “You haven’t even-”  
  
“Open! Please! Hurry!”  
  
“Alright! Alright!” he huffed irritatedly as he and his upsidedown compatriot awkwardly shuffled aside, the left door automatically swinging outward.  
  
Without warning, Sarah ducked behind them!  
  
“What are ye-”  
  
“Shh!” she frantically silenced him, just as the Far Darrig jogged into the dead-end; upon seeing him, her strange companions started physically shaking!  
  
“Easy there, lads, I’m just passin’ through,” he reassured them – everything seemed scared of this guy! “She chose this one, then?” he pointed to the open door.  
  
Ralph Redcrest boldly nodded ‘yes’ - Sarah had never in all her life been so grateful to a liar!  
  
The Far Darrig strode up to the portal bold as brass, but stopped short, frowning, sniffed for a second like a bloodhound, shrugged, and continued on through. As soon as he had stepped completely past the threshold, Sarah slammed the heavy door closed behind him with her full body strength, hearing the bolt fall into place, locking him in! She just about collapsed on the stone floor in relief, trying to catch her breath.  
  
“Thanks. All of you,” she panted, looking round at them; there was wonder and admiration in their old, pale eyes. Alph Blueshield looked a bit misty.  
  
“Madam,” he saluted grandly – and the others all quickly followed suit – “carry on!” He shuffled aside and the door to the right opened inward for her. Sarah got to her knees and took a proffered hand up from Tim Upsidedown; she was staring at the closed door, though, her nerves still frazzled. That had literally been a matter of life-and-death; she had done what she could in her scanty circumstances, there had been no time to think out anything better than what she had just done. She looked back at old Alph Blueshield – the truthful one.  
  
“Since I didn’t ask about the door,” she began carefully – these creatures seemed bound by strict rules, “what was that thing?” She stole another glance at the door to the left, half-fearing that it would be kicked back open at any moment.  
  
“A Far Darrig,” Alph shuddered at the memory, “a dreadful, mean-spirited leprechaun that somehow found its way into the Labyrinth and was trapped here. Been tormenting anyone who comes through or inhabits the outer maze for years, even us! His Majesty-” – they all sort of spontaneously bowed reverently where they stood, so-to-speak – “even he was having a hard time catching him,” he whispered, glancing up at Sarah with an expression that read ‘mum’s the word’. “You didn’t see him… before?”  
  
“No, I didn’t,” Sarah sighed, starting to realize just to what extent she had been protected ‘the first time.’ There was no such protection now. So that thing had been a serious public threat – that made her feel a little better about how things had played out just now. Whatever constituted ‘certain death’ in there, she was sure he was giving it a run for its money. Or, knowing the Far Darrig’s personality, befriending it and driving it crazy. Whatever. It was over.  
  
Sarah did her best to put the incident from her mind as she began to walk through the right portal – then stopped short, remembering the trap door in the floor. Getting back down on her hands and knees, she pressed the stone paving in front of her, but it didn’t give and didn’t give, and so she advanced.  
  
It opened immediately once her full weight was on it, however, and she was falling, wildly trying to grab onto any of the disembodied hands growing out of the walls that would slow her descent by eventually catching her. As she felt them securely grab her legs and arms, she had nearly resolved to ask promptly to be handed back up to the surface this time, but as the hand-faces started to slowly form around her, she suddenly noticed the ringing again. It had grown louder in here…  
  
“Oh, come on, not this again!” the first collective handface exclaimed, four in this unit, “It’s the one who can’t decide! She’s back!”  
  
“Oh, no – ‘which way to go? Which way to go?’” another voice mocked her from above. “There are so many options and simply eons of time!”  
  
“Yes, she’s not terribly heavy to be holding at this angle, now is she? Nope, we could do this all day!”  
  
Well past her initial shock from first encountering the organism, equipped with better knowledge of it from Chaos, Sarah actually mentally stopped what she was doing to stand in wonder of it for a second or two. Conscious collectives like this one were a rare phenomena indeed, with a plethora of minds all sharing the same biological matter, fluidly shifting about inside it, melding, separating, working together within the whole to create homeostatic well-being. It really was a marvelous form of life. Pity it was hidden away in here where practically no one knew about its existence, where it couldn’t be studied. Lord Suhuy had actually seemed a little envious of her earlier experience with it when she had told him about the incident.  
  
A green hand slapped her across the face!  
  
“Hey!” Sarah exclaimed angrily.  
  
“Wake up and decide already! If our arms fall asleep in this position, you’re taking a dive!”  
  
_Then again_ , Sarah quietly fumed, feeling the heat from her stung cheek, _it could just be a really exotic jerk._ There were plenty of those, she was finding out.  
  
But there was a serious quandary here: above was obviously not the right way; who knew where that thin stone passage led off to, if anywhere. But down below her was a dungeon she had proven incapable of exiting on her own; the likelihood of that makeshift door still standing there was not good, and one certainly didn’t shift shadow within any version of the Logrus. She could literally starve to death in the dark down there – alone. No one would be sent to so much as pester her, she knew. There had to be a right way…  
  
“You realize we can rifle through your pockets while we’ve got your arms and legs secured, right?”  
  
It belatedly hit Sarah just how weird it was that everything here could speak some version of her mother-tongue! Was the ability telepathic learning or a spell? No time to worry about that now. Mentally brushing off the rude remark, hoping some highly-skilled, light-fingered pickpocket impulse wasn’t already sifting through her carryall behind her without her knowledge, Sarah plowed through with her question; it sounded crazy but she had to know.  
  
“Well, is there another way besides up or down?!”  
  
The mocking voices and side conversations all simultaneously stopped on a dime; Sarah felt its/their immense scrutiny, suddenly feeling as small and surrounded as she was. Literally at their mercy.  
  
“Nobody’s ever guess-” a childlike voice sounded from far above and behind her where she couldn’t see; it sounded cut off at the end, muffled as if another hand had covered its mouth.  
  
“There is… isn’t there?” Sarah smiled triumphantly, looking all about at it/them.  
  
“Well…” one of the previous buglike faces waffled, “you just might be able to squeeze through, but technically it’s a ventilation shaft for us. From what we can feel of the opening, it’s awfully slick-smooth in there. And if for any reason you should get stuck, you’d be cutting off our air supply. I don’t know…”  
  
“Can you at least show it to me?”  
  
There were a few sighs that oddly dovetailed together, like many mouths all voicing one mind’s doubt. “We shut it temporarily when there are intruders. For safety,” another voice chimed in.  
  
“You have to protect yourselves; I understand,” Sarah nodded.  
  
“Let her look already,” said a kindlier, older-sounding voice to her left. Sarah sort of smiled in gratitude at its comical, makeshift features; part of the organism’s ‘heart’, she would guess.  
  
Suddenly there was an undulating sort of movement Sarah could only partially make out in the dim light, about six feet below where she was held suspended in the tunnel, as a thick weave of overlapping arms gracefully separated from each other, and she found herself being carefully handed down to its level. The opening was square, about two-by-two feet, slanted upwards at a 65 degree angle. She reached inside and felt the polished stone wall – it was slippery as greased ice in there! She doubted even her Chaos-style boots would have much traction against such a surface, let alone her hands! But daylight gleamed invitingly in from an ornately-wrought metal grate at the top, which was approximately thirty-to-thirty-five feet above them, she would guess. The natural light illuminated the shaft, making the stonework shine. And the ringing was taking on multiple tones. Whether or not anybody could logistically traverse it, this really was the right way.  
  
“If I slipped and slid back down and out, would you be able to catch me?” she ventured.  
  
“Perhaps, perhaps not,” a deep, officious-sounding voice resounded from somewhere below, “it would depend entirely upon your falling velocity.”  
  
Was that the organism’s ‘intellect’? One thing was certain, though: she would get nowhere without making some kind of artificial traction, but she was beginning to have an idea.  
  
“Could you help me get inside and just hold my boots, please? I need to… summon power, and I don’t know if or how it would affect you, being in contact with me like you are. But I think it’s less likely to cause problems if I do it in there versus in here.”  
  
“Oh, alright, but hurry it up – in case you haven’t noticed, we don’t have biceps!”  
  
Watching her head, Sarah was lifted up inside the shaft, careful that her arms were out in front of her; she would have to be really careful not to accidentally knock herself out by sitting up too far! At least the surface looked relatively clean, although with her face down on it she could see faint tracks from precipitation. Waiting until she only felt them gripping her calf-high boots down below, Sarah tentatively summoned the Logrus power for real this time, bracing herself, not knowing what it would look like, but having a fair idea of how strong it would feel and sort of dreading it.  
  
An inky blackness seeped out of the walls all around her, blotting out the sunlight above. Feeling terribly claustrophobic, Sarah forced it to coalesce around her hands into the glove-form she was used to, and to her small relief it did, freeing from the shaft, opening it up again. It took a few more seconds of hard concentration to communicate and form what she desired: almost a suction-like tacky surface on her palms and fingerpads, not so sticky as to glue her to the shaft, just enough to allow her to climb inside of it like a tree-frog. She had thought of extending the ability to her feet as well but almost immediately ruled out the idea as far too dangerous; theoretically it might have very well been possible, but she didn’t care to try it out under such uncertain circumstances – she might get wedged.  
  
With two resounding smacks, her hands successfully stuck to the wall above her; she experimentally lifted her left hand free and found that she could do so with just a little effort. Someone with many more years of experience could have no doubt performed the maneuver more cleanly, but it would have to do.  
  
“I got it! Let go!” she yelled over her shoulder, wincing at how loud her voice echoed in here.  
  
The reassuring feel of those disembodied hands securing her feet and her balance retreated back into their subterranean column and she was left literally hanging by her hands, which was definitely more uncomfortable than she thought it would be; at least the Logrus would protect her skin from getting ripped up. Slowly, carefully, she hauled herself bodily upwards until her blackened hands were at chest-level. This was definitely going to hurt. Bracing to hold her full weight with her right arm (which was still somewhat stronger than her left due to her fencing training), she pulled her left hand free – it made a sound not unlike a suction cup releasing – and threw the arm out above her by another yard: it stuck. The right quickly followed and she hauled herself up again.  
  
And again.  
  
And again.  
  
It wasn’t long before both of her shoulders had commenced to ache from the immense strain, but she wouldn’t slacken her pace for anything; she had to gain the surface while she still had the strength to do so. Her one worry was whether that grate at the top was moveable or not; she didn’t savor the idea of trying to melt away part of the Logrus within the Logrus – even such a relatively teensy part – but she would deal with that when she got there. If she got there.  
  
_No, when_ , she thought firmly, her biceps burning from the effort. The only sounds to be heard besides that eerie ringing were the echoing **smack-smack** of her hands and her own heavy breathing. Perhaps it was due to the exertion, but it seemed for a short while that the shaft had become dimmer, like something was blotting out the light, but after a time her vision cleared again. She was panting, sweat running down her face, but up ahead was clear blue sky…  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Random Barimen was pacing in one of the nicer first-floor drawing rooms in Castle Amber, smoking a cigarette. Upon their coronation, his wife, Vialle of Rebma, had promptly forbidden the practice indoors in shared social rooms of the palace proper, claiming both health reasons and that it tarnished her enjoyment of one of her remaining functional senses – she was blind, you see.  
  
At present, though, Random was simply too beside himself to care. In less than half-an-hour local time, there would be no more Vialle, with her too kind heart, warm smiles, skilled hands. Hell, there wouldn’t be a Random or a Castle Amber! Might not even be a Pattern left. He wasn’t as certain of the Unicorn, though. Would She sue the Serpent for a place to dream of Order in a new, primeval universe, or would She tuck Her tail and head for parts unknown, to consult and commune with the eleven Elders? It was a pointless conjecture; none of them would survive to see it. And if She did manage to resurrect some bastion of Order and bothered to reanimate Her grandchildren in some form or another, he seriously doubted they would remember anything that had come before, clearly, unbiased by outside will, if at all.  
  
It had proven ridiculously difficult to initiate trump contact with Merlin when he did not call back as expected; even after tracking down an old trump of him in Princess Fiona’s deck, it had taken both him and the princess working in tandem to establish the link, and the psychic exertion was long and hard at that. It wasn’t that the King of Chaos – or even the structure of the Thelbane – had been deliberately blocking the call; it was literally that difficult to reach the full way across the cosmic spectrum. Once the link was firmly established, however, Merlin strengthened the connection with his spikard at once, making extraneous help in sustaining it unnecessary, and Fiona had retired to her chambers. Random privately envied quite a number of his young nephew’s powers but easy long-distance trump calls would undoubtedly be one of the most convenient for himself.  
  
The utterly wild theft of the Jewel had been every bit as impossible as one could imagine: the artifact had been kept locked and warded (also Merlin’s work) in the king’s private chambers, which were arguably the safest wing in the castle, only slightly less patrolled than the dungeons! And yet it had happened anyway, in the dead of night, under their very noses: someone or something (that had yet to be established) had to have teleported directly into the wall safe and departed in the same manner! There was no other explanation. It had been found locked as it had been left, no damage of any kind evident. All the guards on duty that day as well as several shifts previous were questioned to a man, in vain. Random personally looked in on the ruby every morning and evening; ever since the current king of Chaos’ odd experiences with the gem, he figured it couldn’t hurt to make sure that it was remaining as it was and not flashing like a pager in the attempt to communicate something vital!  
  
In short, this was the perfect heist, and it was even more disturbing to think that a magically-inclined intruder had so easily gained access to his and his wife’s sleeping chamber. And only three people even knew of the existence of the safe: himself, Vialle, and Merlin. Add to this state of affairs the fact that his nephew had taken great pains to seemingly warn him personally of some foreseeable yet ‘unknown’ indiscretion that could soon take place, and one could well-understand King Random’s raised suspicions on the matter.  
  
To his credit, the king of Chaos had done everything within his power to allay those suspicions, even going so far as to loan the king of Amber the trump for the Ghostwheel, ordering the machine to help his ‘uncle’ in this one instance until further notice. Of course it was a nuisance, but it could not go unnoticed by the palace guard in Amber that they had basically let an enemy spy slip through their fingers only a day-and-a-half before the calamitous theft, and Random was obliged to dispatch a special ops unit of his own to track down and apprehend the human girl for the sake of keeping the peace besides… only to discover that she wasn’t home and an imposter was living in her place there, which looked even more suspicious. Further tense communications with Merlin mere hours later confirmed the worst, though: that the real thief was not only Chaosian in origin and alliance but was also bent on returning the Jewel to the Serpent, destroying all possible worlds in the process, not just the Pattern-generated ones. Merlin had been magnanimous enough to formally extended political asylum to any in the royal family willing to attempt the escape (and any in Amber willing to follow them) to Chaos; on his own end, the physical Courts and Ways were literally being emptied – all citizens had been ordered by the crown to take emergency shelter in the Cathedral and its environs, in the vain hope that the Serpent would acknowledge and bypass Her own on Her destructive, triumphal journey back to the Pit. And if Merlin was wrong, at least his own countrymen would be with their friends and loved ones when death came for them all.  
  
And, as if to add petty insult to irreparable injury, Random had finally learned that the insane perpetrator’s well-meaning-but-ludicrously-naïve shadow had gone into perdition after her original in some ill-conceived, weak attempt to stop this on her own without any instructions?! He’d heard about enough. While he had to admit that his opposite number’s conciliatory offer had been almost painfully generous, Random knew it would never work; they’d all be back at each other’s throats in a week, tops, confined like that. Besides, he knew that none of his own citizenry would ever willingly inhabit Chaos even if they could without going mad, especially after the War – most would rather die than live in a world with no Order. He was of the same mind.  
  
Finishing the cigarette – thankful to the first being who decided that a little poison wasn’t necessarily bad for a case of nerves – he flicked the butt into the unlit fireplace, then made his way out of the room, across one of the back hallways and up a newly remodeled flight of stairs to the third floor and the royal apartments. Last he had checked in, Vialle had been keeping her own hands busy at her clay sculpting in her studio, so engrossed in her work that she hadn’t even said a word when he had popped in to update her on the situation. Random nearly wished to spare her this final intelligence, yet he wanted to be with her at the end; he would not mention it unless she herself brought it up.  
  
Hoping to surprise her, removing his heavy boots before entering, he quietly opened the door, noiselessly padding across the medievally decorated private reception area, crossing the modern bedroom section, holding his breath.  
  
He could never be quiet enough to better his wife’s uncannily acute hearing.  
  
“Random Barimen, sometimes I think you’re still a boy in school,” she turned toward him from her workbench with a little knowing smile; her studio occupied the remaining third of their apartments, albeit the ceramics oven was in the back of the gardens below.  
  
The king tossed his cavalier boots aside on the floor by the bed with a light thunk and gave a theatrical sigh.  
  
“You make it thoroughly impossible for me to sneak up and ravish my queen.”  
  
Vialle suddenly stopped smiling, turning all the way around on the round stool, her focusless eyes aimed in his general direction. “The situation with the Jewel is grown that desperate? You don’t expect there to be any further calls now?”  
  
The only vision the woman had ever lacked was strictly of the physical variety.  
  
“If things truly stand as I have been informed, we don’t have much time.”  
  
Vialle wiped the excess clay off her hands on her work apron and removed it, crossing the room to him. He gently took her in his arms, his little Vialle, with her dark brown eyes and dark brown hair – dark enough to nearly make her look like a ‘Lander’, as Rebmans called surface-dwellers. She was thin, delicately built, just the right size for his own small frame. He buried his right hand in that long fall of hair, holding her close, wishing he had the power to really protect her, to keep the oncoming darkness at bay. He felt infuriatingly helpless. If only there were something he could be doing! Anything! Anything but waiting for the Logrus to devour them alive!  
  
Of course, she could intuit his unvoiced frustration in his physical tension, too.  
  
“There was no opportunity for you to assist?”  
  
He smiled down on her just a little ruefully. “You really do know me far too well. My father would have called that a liability.”  
  
“I only wish to share in your grief, to help in my own small way.”  
  
He gave her no reply but a tender kiss upon the mouth, followed by another and another as he walked her back towards their bed, his hands roaming her lithe torso. His elder half-brother Prince Corwin had once stated that, given his choice, he would quit this existence with a good bottle of wine and a fine woman, and Random had heartily agreed with the sentiment at the time, although his own priorities in the matter were just the reverse.  
  
But Vialle pulled teasingly away from him.  
  
“You still have not answered my question, my lord,” she lightly admonished him, feeling his face, his expression, with her fingertips.  
  
He caught her wrist. “The Jewel has somehow been transported to the first of the Fixed Logri; it is being returned to the Serpent even as we delay. There is nothing left to fight for. I would love you while I yet may,” he kissed her palm, tasting the earthiness of the clay residue.  
  
“You mean nothing has been done?”  
  
“Well,” he scoffed at the memory, “I would call it nothing, yes, but that girl we detained and questioned – she’s foolhardily followed her original into the imperfect dark coils of that labyrinth; it is the one she traversed for her initiation. I’ve never heard of anyone surviving any version of the trial twice and neither has Merlin. Many qualified Chaos-bred initiates don’t even survive it the once! She may be dead already. Nobody else has proven patriotic, nihilistic, or stupid enough to follow them in. As I said, the situation really is hopeless.” He drew her to himself once more, but her own expression was now focused and thoughtful, her warm unseeing eyes appearing to look straight through him.  
  
“There is a way to know for certain. If only I had known sooner…”  
  
She gave her husband a light peck on the cheek and returned to her sculpting studio with such a look of determination that he simply had to follow her to see what she was up to. She had gone for her cache of tall, finished statues that were lined up all along the right wall and had begun choosing among them. When she picked one and commenced pushing it across the floor, Random was immediately at her side.  
  
“No, my love, I must do it,” she gently reprimanded him. “You can help by shifting my workbench to the side of the room – I need more space to make the circle.”  
  
The king quickly did as instructed; the table was built of thick wood and was heavy, but it was surprisingly light work for a son of Oberon to move, even unaided. Meanwhile, he was watching his wife bustle about the room with this statue and that, seemingly lining them up by compass; he was terribly curious, especially since he had never been given any reason to believe they had had any significance at all beyond being allegorical works of art. What had she named them all again? Risk, Memory, Chance - things like that. He had always liked Desire.  
  
Soon there was a circle of eight of them, all perfectly spaced, all facing inward around one of the glass wind chimes she had hung from the ceiling in that precise spot ages ago! _How long has she been planning all this out?_ he thought with a touch of pride; while Vialle wasn’t anywhere near bloodthirsty enough to truly mesh with the Barimen clan, his love was certainly making great strides in the secrecy and intrigue departments if this little display was anything to go by, and he genuinely rued that she would never have the opportunity now for those political ‘talents’ to blossom.  
  
“Thank you,” she said as soon as the table stopped moving. “You can add the chairs if you like now – one goes to the north and one to the south, both outside the circle but facing it.”  
  
He jogged across their apartment to the sitting area, catching her sense of urgency, and dragged back two intricately-carved wooden affairs, setting them up as ordered. Without another word, Vialle sat down in the chair to the north, behind the statue of a blindfolded woman with her mouth open as if speaking and her hands raised in gesture. This was an oracle, of course – obvious now. Taking the hint, Random seated himself in the free chair behind Desire. Vialle had closed her eyes, her hands resting in her lap; she seemed to be meditating. After some time went by, the king was beginning to wonder whether the process was strictly private and telepathic when she abruptly began to speak, still clearly in her own mind.  
  
“At the deepest level, what now threatens Amber and Order?”  
  
To Random’s astonishment, two of the statues spoke at once – but the sound of their voices came from the chimes above!  
  
“The Second Order, which dangerously weakens Chaos,” the old male statue to the southwest named Head replied.  
  
“Bitterness, disillusionment, revenge upon both the Courts of Chaos and Amber, and in Amber Prince Julian Barimen,” Desire resounded.  
  
“Julian!” Random automatically exclaimed, nearly rising out of his chair. “Does this have anything to do with his actions at Patternfall?”  
  
“No,” answered a plainer, more cerebral-looking female statue to the northwest – Memory. “He unknowingly took a blacklisted Chaosian woman for a lover once briefly – and promptly abandoned her upon discovering it.”  
  
The Barimen family foible grated on Random’s nerves with all the tenacious annoyance of a brassy, out-of-tune music box; it was one he had simply heard too many times. If they weren’t all about to die already, he would’ve taken pleasure from killing Julian personally at this point if he was really the responsible party for this impending apocalypse!  
  
At least Vialle was still cool-headed enough to continue.  
  
“How long is brief?”  
  
“Only two nights,” Memory continued, “alone in the Arden Forest. She unwillingly shifted forms in the height of passion.”  
  
“When did this occur?”  
  
“Approximately five years ago, shortly after Patternfall.”  
  
“Has this woman achieved the ends she desired?”  
  
“Partially,” said Desire. “She gained a child by him who scorned her, and the girl has been raised in the Order shadows, taught by her mother to hate Order for what it is and the Courts for what they are not. That supremacy rightfully belongs to the Serpent and total Chaos.”  
  
“But she has not achieved the end of restoring that supremacy?”  
  
“That is currently unfulfilled.”  
  
“Could her child do it?”  
  
“Yes,” remarked Foresight, the blindfolded woman in front of Vialle.  
  
“Could the girl’s own shadow stop her even now?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“But they might both be destroyed by the Logrus,” rang out a squinting man – Caution.  
  
“If this situation is resolved in Order’s favor, can the other danger wait?”  
  
The ambivalent lady who represented Chance laughed.  
  
“The two dangers are intertwined,” warned Foresight, “though the woman does not even realize it, having been exiled to Order long before the War for riling up religious extremism within the lower Houses, gathering followers not through the state-recognized Church of the Serpent.”  
  
“Where is this woman now?”  
  
“Shadow-pulling to Chaos, but away from the Courts,” Head responded.  
  
“Where is the daughter?”  
  
“Two-thirds of the way through the last imperfect Logrus.”  
  
“Where is the shadow-girl?”  
  
“Just over halfway through, after her.”  
  
Vialle opened her eyes and lifted her head towards Random. “Any last minute questions before we shut it down?”  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me about this thing?!”  
  
“She was not certain for some time that it would work as she willed,” announced Head, to Vialle’s surprise and acute embarrassment!  
  
“And she wished to impress you, for you to be pleased with her, with her talents,” added Desire.  
  
Vialle stood up. “It would appear to work a little too well,” she noted wryly but with a good sense of humor. “There is no proscription against your helping me to put them away if you still want to aid me in moving them.”  
  
But Random had gone to a window and opened it, almost ashamed that he had not remembered this one, simple magic; perhaps he had attempted to block it from his memory since it was apparently the last thing his father ever did before repairing the primeval Pattern, to his own destruction. Taking a pocketknife from his jacket, Random raised his left jacket-and-shirt-sleeves and didn’t hesitate to slash his own skin, the old spell coming back to him.  
  
“Random?” Vialle noted his absence. “Random, what are you doing?”  
  
“Something I should’ve done in the first place. I’m hedging the bet,” he distractedly replied, having collected some of his blood in his right hand; carefully covering it with his left, he blew into his hands and quickly separated them, willing the large, red, crowlike bird into form and reality before wrapping his fresh wound tightly with a handkerchief.  
  
Walking toward his voice, Vialle finally sensed the magic as she neared him. “A familiar? But why?”  
  
“I can’t leave the fate of the entire universe in the hands of two certifiably crazy kids,” he answered her seriously as the red crow alighted on his outstretched arm, examining him with its unusually intelligent-looking red eyes.  
  
Vialle suddenly caught on. “But if you snatch the Jewel away now, they’ll both die in there! At least the original girl will – it’s been using up her bioenergy for hours now!”  
  
“If I don’t-”  
  
“Wait, I have an idea. Where did you put the shadow-girl’s token ring from the king of Chaos?”  
  
Random sighed and walked back into the room, the bird climbing up to his shoulder. Of all the times for his wife to have a fit of conscience… Digging through a drawer of jewelry he liked to adorn his queen with, he readily located the ring in question and placed it in her open, receiving hands. Vialle strode quickly to the still-standing circle of statues and put the polished amethyst cabochon to the lips of Foresight and Caution, who kissed it. Random chuckled.  
  
“You’re a little late for that. She needed those a while back, I think.”  
  
“They will serve her well enough yet,” she came back, handing it to him. Eying the ring with a note of mild amusement, Random walked back over to the circle himself and let Desire kiss it also.  
  
_The drive to carry on_ , he thought to himself as they walked back to the open window; the red bird hopped off his shoulder and onto the ledge, facing them. Random presented it with the ring and it promptly took it in its beak.  
  
“Fly out to the last of the imperfect Logri and deliver this to the shadow-girl traversing the path, then find her original and bring the red stone she carries straight back to me.”  
  
“Do not interfere in the jewel’s recovery unless there is no other way for the stone to be safe,” Vialle added, carefully reaching out, feeling the soft feathers of its chest.  
  
“How dare you interfere with my own familiar,” Random mock-scolded her. “Oh, fine, what she said,” be finally relented. “Now hurry!”  
  
The bird took off through the open window and a wind of the king’s desire sped the creature on its way. Vialle leaned into Random’s arm.  
  
“Does that feel better?”  
  
Random half-committally nodded. “At least it’s something.” He looked down at his resourceful, talented wife, putting an arm around her. “I’m still not expecting any further calls today, not barring the end of the world,” he flirted.  
  
“And if it isn’t the end of the world?”  
  
“Then I’m still a king of Amber and I can have the damn afternoon off if I want,” he smiled, caressing her face, kissing her temple as they walked back into their private section of the chambers. Even in far less extenuating circumstances, Random Barimen had never been one for caring too much about the world in general or its opinions. He certainly wasn’t about to start now in time for the grand finale. If they got lucky, it might even all still be standing at dinner, he mused as he joined his wife on the plush fur rug in front of their fireplace.  
  
“You have to model for me later, though, as long as I have you,” Vialle warmly teased him, stripping off his dress jacket, his shirt, loosening his belt, “that life-sized heroic statue for the courtyard isn’t going to finish itself. It would work best if I made casts of your form to build the rest of the garments on top of. But it doesn’t have to happen all right away.”  
  
_Definitely an artist’s one-track mind_ , Random thought with a touch of amusement, smoothing aside the top hem of his wife’s simple medieval-style shoulderless dress – the type she wore to work in - lifting her to him. _Other fools can worry about whether-or-not they’re going to heaven in the next five minutes_ , he reveled in her warmth, her smell, her grasp. _I’m already there._  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
(Incidental music: Corwin's shadow-walk - Trash80, 'Mine or Major' (profound thoughts), 'Nobody' (meditative), 'More than it is' (violet sky, silent white dragons). And the radio is playing Metallica, 'Wherever I May Roam'. Of course. )


	15. Me and my Shadow

Chapter 15 – Me and my Shadow  
  
The cool breeze of the topside world whipped across Sarah’s sweaty body, chilling her as she sprawled prone, eyes closed and panting, on the tan flagstone paving of the hedge maze; the decorative wrought-iron grate lay beside her, the rock beneath it cracked from the force of the weight as it had fallen, smashing down and away from the vent opening. Once Sarah had reached the surface, she very nearly had made the dangerously foolish mistake of grabbing the grate with her Logrus-sticky hands – she could’ve been stranded there, suspended from the ‘ceiling’! But some panic-quick, rapid-fire brainstorming came up with the solution fast enough: concentrating hard, she had willed the black-tendril glove on her left hand to exude geomagnetic anti-gravity force and literally shot the grate off the opening, then hobbled out on her right arm, crawling the rest of the way before banishing the localized Logrus power once more.  
  
Forcing herself to sit up, rubbing warmth back into her stiffening, aching arms and shoulders, wincing a little, she very gingerly shoved the grate back into place without it taking off any fingers; it fell as heavily as a manhole cover. She had the sudden impulse to shout goodbye to the Helping Hands down below but stopped herself; she had no idea of just who or what might be staking out this particular section, waiting for some inexperienced dumb-bunny to come bumbling on through. Sitting with her back against a shrub, Sarah cracked open the second juice bottle and allowed herself a single swallow; plant growth or not, this place was technically a desert – she would have to carefully ration the remainder of her supplies.  
  
The sky above her was fairly close in hue to Order-blue, the box hedges a natural enough green, and yet there was a pervading sense of danger in this cramped, verdant corridor she had emerged in. The feeling of the Serpent waiting to strike…  
  
Taking a deep breath, she stashed the glass bottle in her carryall and carefully came to her feet, gripping the bush for support, suddenly envious of Lord Suhuy’s genial, easy-going relationship with this power, how he leaned on Her like an old friend, and She lent him strength. No such help would ever be at Sarah’s disposal; she hadn’t felt this terribly alone since… well…  
  
Ever. In every other isolating circumstance she had found herself in up to this point, there had always been the promise or threat of another living being running into her sooner or later. She was probably the only sentient creature for miles.  
  
_Which way now?_ As Sarah attempted to regain her bearings, her ears were greeted with the sound of lightly galloping… feet? A speartip with a little triangular blue flag emblazoned with the numeral ‘3’ appeared over the hedge to her left, traveling jauntily down a side passage. One of the lizard-mounted goblin guards she had seen previously in the city, it had to be.  
  
_Or I couldn’t be lucky enough to be left alone_ , she thought ruefully, breathing as quietly as possible as she cautiously inched along in the opposite direction. To her relief, the guard did not even seem aware of her presence – in fact, he appeared to be galloping at random, this way and that, even in circles. _Just a normal patrol, then; I’ll have to watch out for them_ , she thought, suddenly remembering the gang of goblins that had treed and bear-baited Ludo: armed and armored after a fashion, and probably sort of dangerous, but not terribly bright.  
  
Resuming her Logrus-vision once the creature was just a little further off, Sarah commenced scanning the growing hallways ahead for ‘fixed’ passages that she needed to avoid; there was one section that came up that had nothing but fixed passages – dangerously so, in fact – and she had to backtrack in circles to circumvent the hazard area. There actually seemed to be quite a lot of them, really; it was nothing short of miraculous that she had been able to negotiate the hedges at all before.  
  
_No – I had help_ , she reminded herself, suddenly wondering what had become of the thick-skinned but big-hearted dwarf she had conned into leading her, then befriended. The Goblin King had casually mentioned that he had been ‘relocated’ someplace remote. Hopefully not the Bog; Sarah involuntarily made a face at the memory alone of that alienly outrageous quagmire reek. The Logrus ringing had shifted up into an annoying, high-pitched whine, not unlike an electrical buzz the further she traveled into the hedge maze; she had yet to reach the large open area at the wall, but perhaps-  
  
Turning right, she walked straight into a shell-thick armored breastplate, bashing her nose! Giving a little surprised yelp, she instinctively jumped back – but upon seeing who it was, she found that she was more irritated than afraid as she caught her breath.  
  
“Jareth,” she exhaled, looking up (not far) into his familiar, mismatched eyes, “I know you get your jollies in weird ways, but would you mind not giving me a heart attack like that?!” She sighed. “Actually, believe-it-or-not, I’m sort of relieved to see you back here alive – the Argent Pattern didn’t even let you try, right? Or did She just pull you back in too fast? I mean, I know this sucks, but…”  
  
His expression initially had been one of irritation, but it had gradually shaded into a general bewilderment that commenced eating at the edges of Sarah’s confidence. Something was off. Wrong. _Oh no_ , she thought, nearly pitying him, _the Logrus memory-wiped him of his escape, didn’t She?_  
  
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” he began in a foreign-sounding dialect of Thari, one garish eyebrow raised, “and neither do I allow those within my dominion to address me so freely. Nor do I recall having given you permission to trespass the Logrus at all.”  
  
There was something genuinely strange about him, stranger than usual, and it wasn’t just his choice of language. Was it just her, or was he just a little bit taller than she remembered? It was in his face, she slowly realized…  
  
The truth hit her like lightning and she quietly gasped: it wasn’t Jareth, not the real guy. It was a Logrus-ghost of him! Of course! What had seemed off about him was his age – or, rather, his youth; he looked only a few years older than herself! The age he had to have been when he first completed the trial! Which meant that this spectre didn’t know her from Eve… and Sarah would’ve been willing to bet money she didn’t have that he’d been sent by the Logrus to stop her. She decided to test his memory first, check out any possible programming he might’ve received – that sort of thing was fairly common with single-purpose constructs like this. She had to better gauge what kind of danger he really presented.  
  
“Forgive my intrusion into your realm, your Majesty,” she quietly demurred in Thari, watching him like a hawk, “but there is someone of far greater threat to both us and this place probably, further in ahead of me. As soon as I catch up with her, we’ll both be out of your hair.”  
  
It was only now that he seemed to sense the Logrus power that the girl was lightly utilizing, and he brazenly sized her up in turn, taking a single step back as he did so.  
  
“A Chaos initiate from Order – will wonders never cease?” he half-mocked her. “Charmed, I’m sure, and while this is all very fascinating, I’m afraid it simply won’t do. I have been charged by none other than the Serpent to act as the guardian of this remote bastion of Her power. I must remove you.”  
  
“You mean… kill me?”  
  
He smiled. “Only if you make a fuss.”  
  
Sarah’s eyes suddenly brightened. “What of my confederate? Surely you don’t want her in here, either? You will wish to remove her also! You’d be doing me an immense favor!” she nearly laughed.  
  
He looked confused again, and possibly a bit more annoyed. “Who?”  
  
“The girl I just told you about! She’s in…”  
  
And that’s when Sarah realized that it was impossible to even make him aware of her original’s existence – the idea itself bounced off his brain, in one ear and straight out the other without leaving a single mark of its passing! She discreetly commenced readying her Logrus-power, not even sure if it would affect him.  
  
“Look,” she started over, her voice lightly shaking from nerves in spite of herself, “I’m going to try to level with you, your Majesty, if you can possibly understand this, because I really don’t want to fight you, and there’s no nice way to even say this so I’m just going to say it: you’re not real – in fact, you’re a copy of a man who escaped this place and his torment within less than a day ago. You were generated by the power he fruitlessly served for centuries, who held him prisoner. You might only live for a single hour before She lets you unravel, but you’re still capable of experiencing a pretty incredible level of pain from what I’ve seen of another being like you, and I’m not about to hurt you if I can possibly help it. But neither can I let you stop me, because if I fail everything in this place you’ve been charged with guarding is going to collapse into eight more mazes on its way back to Chaos, and we’re both going to die within it. So stand down for your own sake – heck, you can join me if you like,” she smiled a little, “my name is Sarah.”  
  
But the ghost’s mental programming was simply too strong to allow wheedling interference of this nature; Sarah’s heart sank as she watched him ready one of his signature crystals.  
  
“I am charged with guarding his far Logrus,” he reiterated almost a little mechanically, “and you are coming with me.”  
  
Sarah inwardly sighed, pitying the thing; it clearly had no free will. She had really hoped it wasn’t going to come to this, but how could she legitimately stop him without destroying him? The spectre of Brand burned like an infected wound in her memory; she wouldn’t stoop to violence no matter how tentative this being was. This aspect of her personality alone had probably figured into the Logrus’ reasoning for this particular style of defense: she was morally too squeamish to knowingly end a conscious existence even this speculative. In fact, she was very lucky that she wasn’t facing off against her own doppelganger – she’d completed this course herself!  
  
_Oh no_ , she thought, feeling a touch crazy, _no, no, no, no, not going there; one esoteric problem at a time._ She still only had the one racked spell – a boomerang that was coming apart, she realized upon fast inspection – but it gave her an idea.  
  
“Well,” she shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly (wow, was that going to be tender for a while), trying to look like she was about to give up, “I guess that means you’re going to just have to catch me.” And she shot down the long green alley to the second turning and hung a fast right, his crystal shooting by her, missing its intended target by mere inches! _At least it didn’t turn into a weapon!_ She reflected for a second before running on.  
  
She was wrong: heralded by an engine roar loud as half-a-dozen riding lawnmowers and augmented with the screech of a wall’s worth of steel blades, the Hedger burst into view – an outrageous contraption that was so large it straddled two parallel tracks of the maze at once, shaving the hedge inbetween! All along the edges were ludicrously oversized ‘edgers’, which were really large unshielded circular saws; the front was covered in pruning shears, snipping wildly; and all along the base was what appeared to be an immensely powerful vacuum cleaner! The thing made a terrible din, loud enough that the single goblin riding/operating the machine was wearing noise-canceling headphones as well as goggles and a facemask! And it moved at a pretty good clip, too; Sarah simply had to run for it back the way she had come, although she was more frustrated than frightened at this point, especially since she doubted she could concentrate well enough to conjure a system malfunction; Suhuy had made a special point of teaching her one trick for disabling robotic enemies, in light of what had happened on her initial trip to Chaos. But there was no time to set it up; she had only her strength and her wits and she had to come up with an escape now because she had already been forced back to the point of her entry. She didn’t know what would happen to her if she traversed the Logrus backwards too far, but from the way her brain fog had been growing steadily worse during the past minute, she had a fairly clear idea that it wasn’t good for you at the very least.  
  
The Hedger had just rounded the corner – this was it! The three passageways beyond her were all ‘fixed’ now! Frantically scanning the machine for weak points, Sarah suddenly noticed that there was a platform all along the very top, at least one foot wide. Rapidly calling up her Logrus power, Sarah willed it into her feet this time and made an immense jump, clearing the snipping, whirling blades, landing on the top – the little goblin proceeded to curse her out in goblinese, shaking its tiny fist at her – and then she easily dropped down on the other side, laughing in triumph.  
  
Right in front of the Goblin King! He was standing there, all of ten feet away, arms crossed and glowering darkly, blocking the passage she intended to take. Without a word he hurled the crystal he had concealed in his right hand at her; Sarah screamed the lynchpin word for the boomerang spell instinctively without thinking as she ducked! But the half-broken-down incantation turned into a ricochet instead – and the crystal swung around in midair, making a u-turn, straight back toward Ghost-Jareth! His eyes widened in alarm and he leapt backwards into the verdant alley to dodge it –  
  
And froze in midair! The crystal did, too, when it reached the space! The racket from the Hedger stopped at the same moment.  
  
The passageways must’ve shifted again during their standoff, Sarah realized with a full-body shiver; the construct had accidentally entered a ‘fixed’ one! An even bigger shock came when she turned around to see what had happened to the machine… and saw that the Hedger had vanished entirely!  
  
_None of it was real_ , she thought, fighting down a serious bout of panic; ‘Jareth’ was already starting to transluce, his energetic diagramming and matrix becoming visible.  
  
“I would’ve taken you with me,” she said aloud, more to herself than to him – then she scanned the remaining alleys with her Logrus-sight and booked it down the newly correct one, stifling angry tears, retracing her now-altered steps.  
  
_She’s the cruel one, not me. Not me!_ Sarah could swear the Sign she was following laughed at her…  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
As if the burden of the Jewel of Judgment wasn’t draining enough, the forest beyond the Great Goblin Wall had really taken a chunk out of the Half-Chaosian waif who was laboring, excitedly ecstatic, toward the center of this distant shadow of the Logrus – and her destiny. While she had initially resolved (foolishly) not to rely on the Eye for any power, feeling the need to prove her own strength to both the Serpent and her mother – both of whom she had grown up worshipping – reality had reared its ugly head sooner than later, and she had been forced to draw on it, loath as she was to lean on any bastion of Order. It had been thoroughly amusing, watching those strange self-decapitating pyrotechnic creatures dancing about and flying in slow motion relative to her as they tried to catch her in vain; she had mockingly run circles around them before vanishing into the darkness of the thickly canopied forest… and then she became so terribly tired that she had nearly lain down to sleep without even thinking about what she was doing! The Eye demanded the sacrifice of the lifeforce of whoever wore or wielded it; apostate as they were, even the children of Oberon had proven physically resilient enough to roughly make limited use of the artifact, even if one of them – Prince Eric – had died by it, using it too indiscriminately in battle.  
  
But she had been raised to view her uncles (and aunts) as mere footnotes, aberrations of the Logrus’ true power, inclusive of the Pattern. Order had to literally be handed back to Chaos in repentance to restore the Whole, to save the universes from the division that was destroying the system. This was the True Way, the correct nature of reality her mother espoused; her proposed reformation of the Church of the Serpent had gotten her kicked out of Chaos, though, with all of her followers deserting her at the promise of full pardons in a society known for gory public execution of religious dissidents under most circumstances. Bances of Amblerash, the old high priest, had taken pity on the lot of them as ‘misguided, yet faithful,’ only taking the necessary legal steps to banish their leader on the grounds of her being a spiritual and practical danger to the Chaosian public-at-large. But the talk among them of open war with Amber yet lingered in spite of the dissolution of the cult, the murmurings growing like a fungus in the dark, seeping into the higher houses, until it could no longer be ignored by the Crown. It was at this time that a top-secret cabal arrived from Amber with the proposed mission of covertly disposing of King Oberon in Chaos… and the lady’s very existence was quickly forgotten, brushed aside with the coming of the initial set of controversies that precipitated the great Patternfall War.  
  
She never forgot, and never forgave those who had callously turned their backs on her, their ‘savior’, as she had fashioned herself. And so, she had slunk off to Order – hideous as it was to her – intent on fulfilling her mission on her own. Her only comfort was the fact that through private divination she had learned that the Serpent was actually pleased with her, which was nearly reward enough. But not enough to affect the end that they both desired: she needed a child born to her of Barimen-stock – that strange, tainted bloodline with genetics from none other than the Unicorn of Order – to achieve it. And so she had bided her time, hiding from both sets of agents, until the correct time and place were revealed to her – and she subsequently revealed herself, literally – only to discover her weakness at last: she fell in love with the enemy at first sight.  
  
Tall, dark, and handsome in a severe, dangerous sort of way, Prince Julian was surprisingly becoming to one accustomed to only finding demonform attractive; far more arousing was the bestially savage way he had made love to her, taking pleasure in causing small amounts of pain as a true son of Chaos would. She had felt a surprising kinship of spirit with him – a man largely ostracized by his family and even partially by his society, albeit for very different reasons, most of them cruelly petty by her own reckoning: his naturally cold temperament, his non-intellectual tastes, and – horror of horrors – a light speech impediment that he had had to teach himself to correct; his diction in Amberite Thari was technically perfect, but slow. He certainly wasn’t stupid, she rapidly ascertained, merely uninterested in the sciences, philosophy or art. The Forest of Arden was his textbook of choice, and the husbandry of that forest had become his life, patrolling it for outside threats to Amber and its environs his sole job in the empire, hunting for sport within its bounds his chief pleasure. She had led him on a merry chase, letting him hunt her as if she were a hart in the dead of night, finding herself terrified yet elated in his arms.  
  
He caught her a deer for real the second night she lured him away from his camp, quickly roasting part of the fresh meat over a small fire; they had shared it between them, talking together of many things, tasting the blood-rare juices on each other’s lips. The Logrus had led her to a fellow predator after her own ilk, it seemed, in the sweetness and the pain in the dark, far from her home – and true happiness in her exile, dared she think it. She had been on the verge of telling him who she really was, having nearly deluded herself into thinking that he would come with her when the time to fulfill her great purpose was at hand, that he could even help her, when her own Chaosian body betrayed her identity first in a single moment of abandon – and he pulled away from her at the height of intimacy, cold rage and physical revulsion replacing the passion that had occupied his features only moments before. In the twinkling of an eye she had become not only an enemy but a monster to him, and her piteous pleas to him to give her a chance to explain herself fell upon ears of stone as she frantically attempted to shift back down into the humanoid form he had found pleasing. The prince had actually grabbed his loaded crossbow from where he had stashed it behind him, clearly intent on shooting her at point-blank range for king, country, and his own badly wounded pride and honor, but she vanished into thin air, sobbing her eyes out as she swiftly shadow-pulled through two-dozen order-worlds to relative safety; even the fact that he didn’t bother to tail her when he could’ve done so easily while the etheric trail was still fresh was a deliberate slap in the face. She meant nothing to him, now that he knew what she was.  
  
‘Nevermind’, the Serpent seemed to hiss in her mind’s ear, ‘you have what we need now.’  
  
And indeed it was true; she was an alien desperately trying to eke out an existence in an alien land and culture, but she soon discovered she was with child, and though still bitter at how carelessly she had been thrown over, she contented herself with the role of being a mare for the Logrus to stud as She saw fit. And She couldn’t have picked a physically healthier stud; Julian practically never got sick, didn’t even drink much compared with his brothers. The lady soon had the proof of their successful union nursing at her breast: a healthy baby girl with her father’s dark hair but her mother’s eyes and smile. The child was covertly raised in a series of order-shadows, both for their protection from Amberite spies who were sometimes sent to ferret out Chaosian agents, as well as for the girl’s enrichment and cosmic education. They had occupied a trade-route world within easy reach of Amber for about the past four years, though, local-time there; she had divined that once one of her daughter’s shadows was of age – which would happen sooner if they remained here – the necessary steps of the Great Reunification would begin, and her own flesh-and-blood had to be made ready for the greatest initiation of all: the one that would end all the worlds – and all the life in them – and begin it anew as One.  
  
In short, everything young Sarilda Aricline-Barimen knew of life, of existence, was based solely upon her mother’s own warped views, teachings and beliefs. The girl really sincerely believed that they were doing the ultimate right thing here, that reality as she knew it had to be unmade to ‘save’ it, that her current hunger and exhaustion were an infinitesimally small price to pay for such a glorious reward that would surely be theirs upon its completion: goddess-like queens of the New World, second only to the Serpent Herself. Which was why she was completely unconcerned by her present state, that the Eye was eating into her very essence; when she stumbled again, she only laughed, getting back up and fearlessly plowing ahead out into the clear. Soon she would never know wants or limitations of the body again. The Logrus had promised this much (it was the truth - unlike the rest of the lies they had been taught.) In fact, she could almost feel Her, beckoning her on…  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Sarah had had almost no difficulty at all finding the two large wooden doors with their eccentrically opinionated gargoyle knockers, but now that she knew how the system worked she knocked on the one to the left, who protested rather vocally while the other with the ring in his mouth mumbled something about a brass ring for a brain (the moveable part of the mechanism on the gargoyle face was situated through his ears.) Peeking through without stepping past the doorway, the tableau that greeted her seemed almost artificially bright and cheery, a wooded park that could’ve been straight out of Candyland – but it was dead-silent aside of some eerie, muffled snickers. She quickly shut the door via the bronze ring and chose the one to the right as before – the one that led into the dark, foreboding Firey Forest. The canopy of trees was so thick it made mid-afternoon look like very late evening, with everything shrouded in shadows, but with her partially undulating Sign of the Logrus proceeding her it was as if she had a light that nobody else could see. Some of the things that infamous ‘dark light’ revealed, however, she had been spared knowledge of previously, like the dessert-plate-sized tarantula-type spiders that rapidly scurried to-and-fro in the permanent twilight, weaving immense netlike webs between the twisted trees; they seemed to instinctively avoid her, but the sight of them still gave her the heebie-jeebies, especially when she had to tear through sticky webs that completely blocked her path.  
  
That was the other main problem at present: the path. There were dozens of skinny foot-trails that zigzagged and looped about these woods, and she now had a pretty fair idea of the kind of crazy creatures that had made them – but there was no real way of knowing which was the right one, if any of them were. Sarah was certain now that it had only been sheer blind luck that she had even found the dividing wall – huge, thick and crenellated, like a smaller, less operations-friendly version of the Great Wall of China. The now multi-pitched crystalline ringing was already messing with her sense of direction, beginning to induce odd mental distortions of space and time, of how far she had already marched, but she remained calm, moving as quickly and quietly as humanly possible, counting off one-hundred lengthy strides; she guessed that might be far enough away from the maze proper to try a minor tectonic experiment. Theoretically, her geologically talented brand of magic should work best in its place of origin. There was still the chance that it could tire her, but she was willing to risk it at this point – anything that could gain her rapid distance had to be tried regardless of any side-effects.  
  
Reaching the hundredth stride, noting no variations at all in her surroundings but confident that she had been traveling in a fairly straight direction, Sarah stopped, glancing about to ensure that she was alone (oh, for a cloaking spell – she couldn’t afford to waste any energy on extraneous enterprises no matter how handy the results might be in the short term) before closing her eyes to concentrate. Through the tendrils of the Logrus, the power of the twisting, folding path, she reached down into the ground beneath her feet, her will probing deeper into the bedrock far from the trial above, until she found what she wanted (or created it – it depends upon which philosophy one adheres to): the top edge of the liquid lava mantle, thickly churning beneath this alien world. Very carefully, very gently, she began subtly altering its course, causing minor fissure cracks in the base of the rockbed, shifting the pressure to lift the earth directly beneath her, bringing the naked rock to the surface in a small hill-like ridge with one hill higher than the others – a lookout above the treetops. Sarah nearly fell as the black limbs of the Logrus receded again, but she just barely kept her balance, patiently waiting out the mental punishment, grasping her carryall in a death-grip instead of gritting her teeth – this one was bad, she nearly cried; clearly one could not easily change any part of the Logrus under any circumstances. But it finally passed, and after a few more deep breaths she slowly opened her eyes… and gasped at the view, her previous anguish forgotten: the top of the canopy was a gorgeous emerald green, nearly sparkling in the bright sunlight; a flock of startled blackbirds was still wheeling and shrieking overhead – she had obviously disturbed their aviary – but they soon settled back into the treetops some distance away. The forest spread for hundreds of miles to the ‘northwest’ and ‘southeast’ from this particular place, facing as she was, but she could just make out the half-hidden stonework of the Wall maybe all of two miles away to the ‘northeast’.  
  
Carefully scaling/sliding down the fresh rockface, Sarah adjusted course once she reached the bottom, then reached for another granola bar, suddenly hungry (that piece of magic work had obviously burned some calories, as if she hadn’t been already)… only to discover they were all gone! Every last one! Giving an aggravated little cry, she got down on her knees and thoroughly dug through her bag to make sure nothing else was missing. _Nope, only the granola bars! Those freaky little thieves!_ She fumed: it had to have been the Helping Hands! That snarky, offhanded comment one of them had made had obviously been no empty threat of pickpocketing; they had ‘helped’ themselves to her rations! Not even caring to contemplate such a creature ‘eating’ and ‘digesting’, Sarah resignedly strapped it closed again and stood back up; she’d just have to do without. Maybe they had even thought of it as a kind of payment for helping her… She did her best to shove the whole mess from her mind as she resolutely trekked on, ignoring her stomach, sharply reminding herself of a much bigger danger at hand: it wasn’t the distance so much as the prospect of company. Chances were good that that massive uplift in the topography would not have gone unnoticed by other nominally intelligent inhabitants of the forest; hopefully it would act as a deterrent and not as a source of curiosity, but given how crazy the Fireys seemed to be-  
  
A flash of bright red swooped in from between the broken canopy overhead, coming in low! Sarah’s heart leapt to her throat before she realized that it wasn’t a monkey-type creature that could shoot fire from its long fingers at will, but rather a bird, a large red bird that looked like a dyed raven as it circled back around before landing in a nearby tree ahead of her, perched in a low branch. It had something small clutched in its beak and it turned one bright-crimson-irised eye to her and stared intently.  
  
Sarah had no idea what to make of this! It seemed to be waiting for her to approach. Walking cautiously forward, trying not to make any sudden movements that would frighten it off, she slowly made her way over to the tree. “Hello,” she said in English – then repeated it in Thari. As she came closer, the red raven promptly hopped off the branch and sailed in to land on her shoulder! She had winced at its swift approach, nearly raising her arms to shield her face, but once she got past the shock and registered that it was placidly just sitting there as Sofi used to do, she turned towards it to see what it had.  
  
It was the ring Merlin had given her! She’d swear to it! Almost as if enchanted, her right hand lifted to the bird’s beak to receive it, and the creature carefully deposited the artifact into her upturned palm. At first glance, she was leery of the thing; the king of Chaos had tried to forcefully drag her through a trump portal against her will just a few hours ago. There seemed to be something… different about it now. There was no compulsion to put it on and wear it, but nevertheless she did sense a kind of magic on it, albeit of a ‘type’ she had never run into before.  
  
And then an even stranger thought crossed her mind: had this come from King Random? It was just possible; while wholesale arcane training was practically unknown in Amber since the disappearance of Dworkin Barimen years ago, the royal family collectively did know a thing or two of the basics – even something akin to the creation of a familiar would not be beyond the grasp of the king. She studied the exotically-colored raven closely, slowly raising her left arm to make a perch for it; it stalked on down accordingly as she wished, continuing to study her in turn. Its blood-red eyes looked unnaturally intelligent.  
  
“My name is Sarah,” she addressed the creature, suddenly feeling the need to properly introduce herself, “what’s your name? Can you speak?”  
  
“Deliver this to the shadow-girl traversing the path,” the raven commenced to recite its instructions in a near-perfect, tape-recorder-y mimic of Random Barimen’s voice, “then find her original and bring the red stone she carries straight back to me. Do not interfere,” the bird’s pitch oddly shifted up – it was an unfamiliar female voice now – “unless there is no other way for the stone to be safe.”  
  
The creature was definitely a familiar then, Sarah thought with a sigh, and its presence here was hardly a vote of confidence. In fact, it was nearly as much of a last-ditch effort at the recovery of the Jewel as her own feeble attempt. She reached out to the raven and it did not shy away from her hand; she gently stroked its soft feathers.  
  
“How dare you interfere with my own familiar,” the red raven suddenly seemed to scold her in the king’s own voice, and Sarah instantly stopped touching it as if she had been burned! But the bird continued. “Oh, fine, what she said. Now hurry!”  
  
The seeming nonsequitor took a second to process, but Sarah quickly realized that it was nothing more than a repeated snippet of overheard conversation that had accidentally gotten worked into the spell – a really amateur kind of mistake, but a very telling one. Whoever the lady was, she was concerned for Sarah’s physical welfare – and her original’s; the king was not. Did the other voice belong to Queen Vialle? Sarah had only heard of the lady, but what she knew of her was encouraging: she was a very warm and sympathetic soul, known for granting amnesty to reformed political enemies of the Crown and helping to smooth public and trade relations between the city-state nations of the Golden Circle – she was almost single-handedly the main stabilizing force in the region, albeit quietly exerting her influence through her husband from behind closed doors more often than not. Which felt familiar, too, in a weird off-the-wall sort of way.  
  
_‘Why become a target on the throne when you can rule just as effectively from behind it?’_  
  
The bird was still watching, listening – this was obviously what it had been willed to do. “That was all, right?” Sarah asked. “He didn’t even give you a name, did he?” She commenced walking again with it on her arm; it quickly migrated back to her shoulder.  
  
“Fly out to the last,” the raven spouted, unconscious of the fact that it had just stopped in the middle of a sentence.  
  
Sarah gave a sad half-smile. “That’s okay, you don’t have to talk. You just kind of remind me of somebody I used to know,” she sighed, climbing over a fallen tree that was quickly breaking down beneath a thick blanket of lichen and mushrooms.  
  
“Deliver this. Deliver,” the bird perfectly repeated like a machine.  
  
The ring. She had it in her hand, but she wasn’t wearing it. “You already did; I’ve got it right here,” she tried to reassure him.  
  
The familiar would have none of it; he craned around and commenced staring at her from where he was, lightly nipping at her to get her attention.  
  
“Oh, what?” she asked irritatedly, knowing perfectly well what; she hadn’t wanted to put it on. Upon this forced closer inspection, the creature’s expression, the intelligence in the raven’s eyes looked eerily like Random’s intent yet brazenly uncaring attention, expectant almost.  
  
She had to at least try it. The bird flapped up to the top of her head and started pulling at her hair! “Oh, alright, you win already! Knock it off!” she swatted it away, eliciting a much more natural sounding croak. She eyed the dark, tendrily ring warily; if she had to prise it back off with the Logrus, she could probably still do it. Holding her breath, Sarah slipped the ring onto her left hand where she had worn it before… and did notice a kind of a difference, albeit a very subtle one. A slightly clearer frame of mind, perhaps? It actually lessened the mental distortion of the Logrus-noise just a little bit. A reminder of purpose, the sudden realization of her need to rapidly continue. She could almost make out the intention signatures now that she was wearing it, they were not hidden: real concern… and a rather incongruous amusement. Vialle and Random. It was a gift, then, most likely the queen’s idea, addendum to the king’s original plan.  
  
“Hurry! Hurry!” the raven boomed overhead, then flew away again, through the canopy.  
  
The repeated, programmed message felt oddly like marching orders to Sarah now, and she picked up her pace, determined not to stop again for anything. Soon she was practically flying down the path as she let her old training take over, the Logrus within her augmenting and warping the distance she could travel. The view she was seeing would have made the uninitiated nauseous: space itself was stretching and collapsing, over and over, like some kind of cosmic peristalsis. There might’ve been Fireys in the forest about her a couple of times, but she zoomed past them so fast that all she heard each time was a single second’s worth of surprised screeches and road-rage-like insults, similar to how people chew out careless drivers on Shadow Earth. In mere minutes she was at the wall, which was as straight and precipitous as she remembered, but according to her current readings, it was not a proper part of the course, and was, therefore, ripe for her own style of ‘improvement’. It had, in fact, been constructed by the goblins at Jareth’s behest hundreds of years ago, ostensibly to keep the Fireys out of the Goblin City and its environs, but really it had been designed for the better corralling of his creations; they had mostly proven surprisingly difficult to control in spite of the fact that – for all intents and purposes – he had basically made them all from scratch! The Logrus clearly had had other ideas of how to run this particular operation.  
  
The wall was several feet thick, but unmortared, as others Sarah had seen here, with the stones simply stacked all together. Just a little concentration through the black tendrils effected a halfway decent staircase of sorts, running diagonally up the side of the wall to the right, and Sarah ascended, jogging straight up them, setting the wall quickly to rights again once she reached the top, before her alterations could begin to undermine the stability of the structure.  
  
Even compared to the new geological formation she had just created (which could definitely be seen from here, she noted, looking back a moment), the Great Goblin Wall afforded an astonishingly good view: the remaining forest ran over hill and dale for just a few more miles before-  
  
Before the light breeze changed directions and Sarah caught a gut-wrenching whiff of the Bog of Eternal Stench; she couldn’t even see it from up here and it was still that strong! It had to be off to the left somewhere (she had no idea what cardinal directions were in this place – if, indeed, they existed at all within a copy of the Logrus); with any luck, she might be able to skirt the landmark entirely. Unless it was the ‘right way’ – the right way was always invariably the most difficult path.  
  
_But it wouldn’t be difficult at all now_ , she reminded herself; the stone bridge was not only far safer than that old rickety swinging one she had managed to accidentally destroy, but it was also likely unguarded now. And if it was guarded… Sarah didn’t like thinking of it, but she had a sinking feeling that perhaps at least the dwarf might be there if Jareth had made good on his threat of dunking him in that hideous mire for treason – which meant that she was probably the last person he wanted to see. She could only hope that her other companions had fared better.  
  
The Castle Beyond the Goblin City looked almost no closer than when she began, but it was just a trick of perspective endemic to Chaos and its shadows, and this place was no exception. Objects could be much closer or much farther away than they appeared even at short distances, and a long distance could greatly exaggerate the mirage.  
  
And speaking of elaborate psychological illusions, was it just her or had her trump pouch just sort of caressed her leg? Sarah shook her head clear of the odd impression and commenced making a similar staircase on the opposite side of the wall, hoping that she wouldn’t feel quite as crazy afterwards this time around, starting to quietly fear that it might be far worse.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
A mountain range of collected detritus from a-thousand-and-one shadow civilizations, past and present – broken furniture, rusting appliances, bizarre knickknacks, dilapidated toys, dirty clothing and scraps of clothing worn to rags – this was not supposed to be here, Sarilda thought with a distinct note of confusion and consternation as she fought her way through the manufactured rubble; she slipped and got a nasty sliver imbedded in her shin from a broken dining room chair. Cursing under her breath, she stopped to remove it – and saw something so arresting she almost forgot to continue on: there, half-buried beneath a set of collapsed walls like an archeological site, were the remains of a bedroom that could’ve belonged to a small child from an order-shadow! Almost against her own volition, she began to dig. There were dolls and little stuffed toys that looked like different animals, games of varying descriptions, picture books and chapter books written in a language she couldn’t read, cheaply-made fancy-looking dresses, a statue of a sorcerer broken in half, even a made mattress bed with what should’ve been a canopy-type covering over it. Some of the junk she had disturbed shifted and fell to the side; clunky metallic strains of a kind of mechanical music emanated from inside the pile. Pulling chunks of broken furniture away revealed the small contraption – which had been violently smashed, Sarilda realized upon gingerly picking it up, not just casually buried and broken like the rest; only the spinning gearbox remained intact, playing a very slow tune.  
  
It was actually fairly pretty.  
  
The girl had nearly decided to take the device with her when a landslide of debris from behind her jolted her out of her magically fatigued reverie; she leapt out of the way as a mound of garbage washed over the site again in slow motion like a tidal wave. And this action revealed another room – undamaged! She could see different toys, different furnishings, different books; it was obviously the bedroom of another humanoid order-child. Gazing out farther, she could see there were many others.  
  
Dozens of them. All unique. Why were they here? Where were all the children? Some of the rooms were actively being plundered by wizened old creatures with piles of the stuff stacked high on their backs, stooping them nearly to the ground under the immense weight of their finds. It went for miles.  
  
Sarilda’s resolve faltered for a moment. The old worlds had to die off to make the new one possible – she knew that - but she had always thought of that death distantly, abstractly. Not as actual people dying, children her age or far younger, in countless shadow-worlds…  
  
She steeled her nerves, forcing her vulnerable heart to go cold once more. The stuff of shadow was just that – shadow, vapor, nothingness given the semblance of stolen form from the Real. She was a daughter of that Real – scion of the Courts as well as the renegade power of the Eye she now bore, close to her heart. It flashed a brilliant red in time to her own heartbeat now, and had been for the last couple of hours. In fact, she was fairly certain that the artifact was beginning to make her chest ache just a little on top of its time-stretching effects – a sign that it was stretching her own being out thin. She forced herself to continue climbing. If she did not make it to the center, the Jewel would be truly lost: the Serpent could not simply take it even now – it had to be properly sacrificed. She only had to last that long…  
  
She didn’t even notice the large red raven that was discreetly tailing her.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Away from the mouldering, fetid waste of the Bog, the inner forest looked surprisingly like its outer counterpart, Sarah mused as she traipsed along a much larger dirt trail, although that wasn’t entirely true; the trees out here were a bit taller, more mature, there wasn’t quite so much undergrowth clogging the path, as well as its accompanying eight-legged denizens. But there was one pressing problem that she was beginning to find difficult to ignore: her hunger. To be blunt, running and hiking for miles and miles for hours on end would give anyone an appetite; the course simply burned too many calories. But, like Sarah remembered, this entire place was a food desert; there was absolutely nothing out here for humans to eat, not even a clean source of water – Jareth had seen to that. Mentally cursing again the bizarre, collective fauna that had stripped her of her remaining granola bars – the only food she’d had left – Sarah nearly stumbled, dizzy from low blood sugar, but caught hold of a tree trunk to keep herself from falling. She couldn’t go on like this; she had exerted herself far too much before even coming here today. Looking way up into the foliage, she spotted some immature pinecones in a few of the immensely tall evergreens. If she could only climb one to get to the nuts…  
  
The trump pouch rubbed her leg again – it wasn’t her imagination, she glanced down instantly and saw it happen this time! _Freaky_ , she thought; it stilled again when she held it. But the act jogged her memory as she felt the small bump in the leather at the bottom and she suddenly grinned: the Ghostwheel’s gift to her the first day they met - the Jetson Breakfast! She was saved!  
  
Kneeling right where she was (slowly so she wouldn’t pass out), Sarah got her juice bottle out of her carryall, then dug the strange pill out from where it had gotten wedged. It looked the same as ever: a white-coated oval that was just a little on the large side to swallow comfortably, but she had to try. She did gravely note that there wasn’t really enough juice left to do this correctly though, only about three-quarters of the bottle left; Merlin had said at least twenty ounces of liquid. This was twelve at best. It also did not escape her notice that she would be out of anything to drink after this, too; she had been carefully nursing along her liquid supply, even though she was probably more than a little dehydrated at this point.  
  
_Nothing I can do about that_ , she thought resignedly, working up her nerve. Sarah had always hated swallowing pills, even medicine when she was sick; the big ones tended to trigger her gag reflex. She had to force this thing down; her life literally depended on it. Closing her eyes, she put the Jetson Breakfast on her tongue and quickly proceeded to chug for all she was worth before she could think about it anymore – it took a few swallows, but the object finally got past the back of her throat and down as she finished off the juice, savoring the last of the sugary taste.  
  
And she almost immediately had to stifle the urge to wretch: it felt exactly like eating too much way too fast, like someone would in an eating contest! Clearly this sort of technology did not translate well into ‘real life’ from a cartoon – obvious, really, once she actually thought about it. And Merlin had been right, too: it was sort of uncomfortable down there without enough liquid to rehydrate it fully. But she was no longer hungry. Sarah gave herself about five minutes to let her stomach attempt to settle a bit before cautiously getting back up.  
  
Not noticing until it touched her hand: a smaller, tarantula-like spider had climbed up the open glass bottle! Sarah screamed and dropped it, practically leaping away from the trees back into the clear; the spider scurried inside of it.  
  
“Keep it!” she tersely whispered, suddenly worried that something or someone else might’ve heard her. The spider actually made a couple clicking noises at her, then hunkered down into the bottom. Sarah did a full-body shiver, her nausea completely forgotten – and quickly decided to dispose of the other bottle in the same manner if they were an attractant to those things; she got the empty one out, unscrewed the lid and rolled it toward the trees, turning away before she could see it getting fought over by three others as she moved a safe distance away and commenced walking again.  
  
She hadn’t even gotten to the ridge when a large shadow that had blended into the trees moved away in her peripheral vision and she instinctively stopped in her tracks. Whatever it was was easily taller and bulkier than a standing bear as it silently lumbered through the twilit wood. What it had to be quietly dawned on Sarah, but she had no idea who this yeti – no, ‘earth elemental’, she corrected herself – was. She had a feeling that if it had been Ludo, he would’ve shambled straight over upon hearing her panicked distress. This was a stranger, and she was in its territory.  
  
Stillness followed, not even a trace of wind in the trees. Probably a good thing; she had no idea how sharp these creatures’ sense of smell was. Sarah started moving again, trying to be stealthier, carefully stepping over fallen twigs and dead leaves when they could be avoided. Another lumbering shadow appeared off and away to her right, literally disappearing behind a tree. Definitely not the same one. Sarah picked up her pace, working to keep her breathing even, trying not to appear as terribly nervous as she felt; about the worst thing she could do right now would be to run.  
  
A third to her left just stood there, motionless, closer; she could feel it staring at her. There was a faint rustling coming from the foliage only fifty yards behind her, but she wouldn’t turn to look; she was walking as fast as she dared.  
  
A deep howl went up through the forest, shaking the very ground upon which she stood, and Sarah finally stopped, uneasily reminded that she was not the only one around here who could literally move the earth! Frantically glancing about her to see if there were any incoming rolling boulders she was going to have to run from like Indiana Jones, she saw none.  
  
She was surrounded by huge earth-elemental beasts now, at least a dozen of them, but more were slowly filing in from deeper in the woods. Average height among them was eight-to-nine feet tall, but there were one or two that were probably closer to twelve. All were covered head-to-foot in long, limp, shaggy hair, ranging in shade from a gingery brown to nearly black. Their oxen-like horns grew down, up, and every other direction, symmetrically; sabertooth fangs stuck out of the sides of their lower jaws. Far more worrisome, she realized as they cautiously shuffled closer as a unit to examine her, were the presence of long claws on most of those immense hand-like paws that nearly dragged upon the ground, or razor-like spikes sticking out of the backs of the knuckles on some of them. Even in their curious aspect, this brood looked decidedly fearsome, and Sarah was suddenly struck with a terrible thought: sweet-natured Ludo had been far from this section, all alone in the maze, nearly defenseless even against a small pack of goblins. Had he been an outcast, the runt of somebody’s… litter? Was that the right word? Big, brown bestial eyes stared at her from beneath protruding, deep-sunk Neanderthaler brows. The dark-brown creature who was closest reached out one long, badger-clawed finger toward her.  
  
“Hey, watch it, big fella,” Sarah laughed nervously, backing up a pace with her hands up in front of her – as if she could’ve fended off even one of them like that; they stood hunched over, but they were all muscle underneath those thick coats.  
  
“Uh…hi. Hello, everybody,” she looked about at them all, her hand sort of raised in greeting; she was completely hemmed in, feeling the heat coming off of those immense bodies towering over her. “Didn’t mean to bother you all, I’m just on my way through,” she nodded hopefully in the right direction. Hoping it was still the right direction; she had sort of gotten a little turned around just now. Her pulse was pounding.  
  
“ **Who** ,” the first beast rumbled, pointing at her, his expressive brows knit in a morose frown.  
  
Swallowing, Sarah stood her ground. “I’m Sarah,” she tried slowly, gesturing toward herself with each word. _Me Jane_ , she thought – although the situation was more comparable to ‘King Kong’. What was that stupid blonde’s name?  
  
“ **Friend?** ” one of his companions rumbled.  
  
“Yes,” Sarah exhaled with a tentative smile, nearly sagging with relief. Maybe this was going to be all right after all.  
  
“ **Ludo** ,” growled one of the tall, dark ones in the back, the edge in his deep voice like thunder. Resentful, angry thunder. The sound began to gradually swell in chorus, making the very ground beneath them tremble from the resonance.  
  
She was genuinely panicking now, trying to figure out an escape, seeing none.  
  
“ **Sarah… not friend** ,” the first one – the alpha? – pronounced judgment in a half-roar, and swung for her with his mighty, upraised paw, the way a cat would swipe at a mouse! Sarah barely dodged the unexpected attack only because the monster’s reflexes were a little slow!  
  
_They can’t move fast – that’s something_. It was barely a point of contest; she was horribly outnumbered. A blow from behind her nearly made contact, but Sarah instinctively did the only thing she could do – jump – and before the surprised beast could get a grip on her, she literally vaulted onto its broad shoulders, only to be immediately faced with the one behind it, who had no compunction about swiping at her claws-first with both fists! She wasn’t quite out of range – the leather of her left boot got grazed – but with a little extra effort, she leaped from her precarious perch as it was moving and caught a tree branch from overhead! She managed to pull her legs up out of the way - the din the elementals were making was positively deafening by now – but the branch was too thin to support her weight for long. This was far worse than dangling over the Bog; being stinky was nothing compared to the prospect of being torn limb from limb! To make matters even worse, her trump pouch was fairly squirming against her hip, almost as if it were trying to open itself-  
  
She was suddenly distracted by a sharp jostling motion and had to cling tighter: one of the bigger creatures was shaking the tree trunk! Anymore force might uproot it entirely!  
  
“HELP!” she screamed in terror, not really thinking about the fact that there was absolutely no chance of anyone else ever hearing her.  
  
Anyone real, anyway. As if in answer, her trump pouch burst open and her small collection of trumps came flying out of their own accord, but the cards were getting larger and larger as they circled about her; even the great black beast trying to shake her to the ground had stopped to point in wonder as the others backed up a few paces, vocalizing their fear and unease. The principle images were all life-size now; they were all activated after a certain sense, yet not ‘connected’ or ‘live’ as with a more normal trump call. To complete Sarah’s surprise and bewilderment, the seated image of Mandor spoke!  
  
“Why do you never heed warning, Sarah?” he sighed, sounding tired. “Surely there were better, safer courses of action for you to take. I must admit I’m not truly surprised, just a little disappointed. I thought we had trained you better than this.”  
  
The fact that she was hanging by her fingers for dear life was all but forgotten; Sarah was floored.  
  
“I…I’m-”  
  
“You conditioned her for loyalty, not to think for herself,” the computer programmer in the expensive business suit promptly scolded him – Merlin! “If you had really wanted your pawn to fare better, you should have included varied courses on creative problem-solving in crazy death-defying scenarios rather than spending your spare time fine-tuning a slave ring you didn’t have the opportunity to present to her.”  
  
“What?!” Sarah exclaimed – that was news!  
  
“It is of no consequence,” Sofi’s unmistakable voice echoed serenely from somewhere inside the trump of Sarah’s play-world, “for all achieves the same end of the Great Union. All paths must ultimately lead to the Abyss and the blessed communion of entropy that culminates in Oneness.”  
  
“But it can’t!” Sarah protested, but it was as if they couldn’t hear her; the dissenting viewpoints merely continued arguing with each other pointlessly to no end, the practice landscapes spinning faster and faster about her, she could nearly feel herself being drawn toward all of them at once, the argument was quickly becoming a shouting match-  
  
“ENOUGH!” she screamed – and all the enlarged trumps stopped where they were in midair; Lord Suhuy’s was facing her. Or, rather, it should’ve been – and his had been the one voice notably missing from the discourse on her failure, too. The picture was, in fact, blank. Blacked out. Sarah suddenly felt the coldness emanating from it; this contact was real!  
  
“Sarah Williams, at last we meet.” The voice sounded old and male, but it was definitely not Suhuy on the other line! Nor was the almost giddy chuckling that followed this remark, setting her nerves decidedly on edge. “It’s an old enough trick to set an opponent’s own insecurities against them under strain to see if they’ll crack, you will allow. I fear I may have found one of my old friend Suhuy’s. It’s a real pity, for it may pose a grave stumbling block to our future games together; it’s been nice being able to play with him again. But he appears to have no stomach for actually winning – I’ve given him every opportunity this round, just to be sporting for a change. I simply had to see the ‘rook’ he had so carefully been cultivating, to test you, before it ends.”  
  
“…who do I have the honor of addressing?” Sarah dubiously queried that oddly personable void. The beasts down below had started to growl again warily.  
  
The nothingness chuckled again, but it sounded a bit warmer this time. “I’ll tell you what: win this round for Order and I’ll introduce myself in person. Word of honor. But there’s no Chaos lord to save you from mechs this time; you had-”  
  
“Run, child! You’re almost out of time!” another male voice sounded from within the card, cutting him off – that was Suhuy!  
  
The panicked warning brought Sarah back to her senses – and she saw that the branch she was dangling from was already nearly half-split! There was only one desperate risk she could take if she was going to have any chance of getting out of this trap alive, and she winced at the thought of what she would potentially be losing in the process. Summoning her Logrus power again, she mentally manipulated the black tendrils to capture all of the life-sized trumps, linking them to her will. The face-sides with visages regarded her expectantly, their expressions perfectly uniform, including Suhuy; even Sofi’s image had crept to the foreground of her landscape – and Sarah had to work to stifle an almost involuntary grimace; the demoness’ natural facial features made Gryll look almost cute by comparison!  
  
“Nice to see you all again,” she started awkwardly – they weren’t real, but that was no excuse to be impolite, she had learned – “but we’ve got a situation here. I’m going to drop any second now into the middle of a gang of elemental monsters. Do you think you all can defend my position so I can slip away?”  
  
“Sure thing, Sarah,” the image of Merlin smiled confidently, standing up from his desk; the others followed suit in unison.  
  
“Don’t hurt them if you can,” she suddenly thought to add, “they’re just defending their territory – I’m the intruder here-”  
  
Her branch cracked farther, almost off!  
  
“Turn us outward, Earth-child,” she heard ‘Mandor’ instruct from the other side of the circle. Not about to question the mechanism involved here, Sarah carefully rotated them counterclockwise on their axes so that the ornate reverse art – a stained-glass style rendering of the Sliding Mountains under that wild, striped Chaosian sky – faced her; the tableau was literally shifting differently on all of them…  
  
The branch snapped; Sarah had been so preoccupied with attuning and adjusting the trumps that she had forgotten that she still had to fall correctly from over twenty feet up! The cards were coming down around her as she’d willed, but this was still really going to…  
  
…hurt? It happened so fast she almost didn’t have time to register it, but she actually slowed considerably within the last three feet, almost hovering…  
  
She was hovering, stranded in midair, floating six inches off the ground! She couldn’t make any surface traction with her feet! The stranger’s laughter rang out about her once more.  
  
“It is strictly forbidden me to directly assist you,” his voice came from everywhere at once (the elementals were closing in again, their collective growl gradually shifting to a roar), “but you’re useless to me with broken ankles. Figure it out.”  
  
And then he was gone and the only humanesque voices that remained belonged to the images of the trumps surrounding her. The scene on the outside of that circle was sheer pandemonium, with bright and dark spells flashing by, yelled incantations, animalistic screams and roars, the earth shaking again, that deep collective howl that could move mountains. At least one of the creatures had just disappeared! Sarah was frantically swimming in midair; she could successfully grab at tufts of ground vegetation with her hands, but she still couldn’t get down! Looking at the spell that held her there, it completely encompassed the Logrus tendrils!  
  
The Pattern, she realized; it had to be! But there also had to be a way out of this trap – she gasped as one of the trumps to her right received a nasty claw-swipe! The creatures had just figured out the things were physically vulnerable! “Sofi!” she cried; Mandor’s ‘raven’ had never failed her in real life.  
  
“Yes, Mistress?” she heard her reply.  
  
“I’m kind of stuck – can’t explain! Is there any possible shortcut through here to get further in?”  
  
“Let me check…yes! Touch the wormhole!”  
  
There was a visual blurring on the back of the trump that Sofi had to be on, three to Sarah’s left. The center of the picture gradually resolved into a circular gateway made of Chaos-fire, burning green; on the far end, she could see the junk pile just outside of the Goblin City! Sarah made for it in slow motion as if underwater.  
  
“Blessed art thou,” she heard Sofi intoning, “for the Serpent Herself waits to embrace you!”  
  
_I’ll bet_ , Sarah thought dryly, reaching out to touch the portal; no sooner had she made contact with the thick paper than she felt herself rocketed through the void aberration in time-space – unable to breathe – until she came out on the other end a second later, panting in relief!  
  
She was firmly on her feet, standing on a hill of assorted garbage; the ruckus from the forest echoed all the way down here. ‘Down’ feeling sort of relative; she was practically a target on top of the mound where she was. Quickly hunkering and drop-sliding lower to be less conspicuous, Sarah immediately set about hanging the spell to disable the robot guard at the gate; it was almost too difficult to concentrate hard enough to form it correctly, though, so many other thoughts were running circles in her mind. She had just met her Order-based adversary, the one who had nearly succeeded in killing her off before she even reached Chaos! And what was this about Lord Suhuy and all of this being just some kind of game?! Did Mandor know? Did anybody else know? The old-sounding man had spoken of her as if she were nothing more than an animate chess piece! Mandor’s chosen heraldry – not the proper heraldry of the House he ruled – flashed through her mind then: black and white, four-tile, with two black chess pieces, a knight and a rook…  
  
Sarah forced herself to stop; she was on the verge of crying. _And for what?_ She angrily chided herself. If she lived through this catastrophe, one way or another she would get her answers, get satisfaction, she coldly vowed. Until then she was just wasting time when time itself suddenly had an expiration date. She quickly cobbled the rest of the system-crash spell together and started picking her way through the mounds; her defense had been hastily and sort of messily constructed, but it should still work – enough. If she had had the opportunity, she would’ve hung at least a couple of shield spells, but she had a feeling this was it, an opinion backed up with her ancient tutor’s frantic screaming and all…  
  
_‘He has no stomach for winning…’_ Winning what? Was this actually a formalized minutiae phenomena of the contest of the two powers? Sarah shivered in spite of the heat of the direct afternoon sun. _Keep moving…_  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
_…just keep moving_ , had quickly become Sarilda’s mantra; every propulsive movement forward was becoming successively harder. She felt as if the weight of the entire world hung heavily from her sore, strained neck. There was barely any part of her left, any bodily system, that that accursed Pattern in the Eye was not somehow co-opting, parasitically both draining her and sustaining her to their mutual continuance. So much of her being was currently consumed by it that the very cobblestone streets she trod felt like a terrible abomination of the Logrus, something so atomically mutated and twisted about that by rights it shouldn’t even exist, and yet here it was, whole city blocks of it. Living creatures constructed of destruction – withering bestial flesh, rotting rusting armor, wild sickly-yellowed eyes that stared at her with equal parts reverence and abject horror – they cleared the streets ahead of her, pouring out of shanties so poorly constructed that a heavy wind could rip off the badly nailed wooden shingles at the very least, running for their lives, out and away from the City, scenting the impending Armageddon. The tall towers of the Castle still shone beckoningly ahead of her. Sarilda’s mind had been playing tricks on her for the past quarter-mile - people who couldn’t possibly be there kept appearing and talking to her, both encouraging and dissuading voices from her past – but she thought she saw the dark form of the Serpent in the high tower, morphing into the shape of a terrifyingly beautiful woman with long, streaming black hair and completely black, piercing eyes, reaching out her lithe white arms toward her longingly.  
  
Come… come…  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
It was tough going, over hill and dale, chipped armoire and broken dishwasher, along with all the other crazy crap the denizens of this shadow horded with the greedy tenacity of jackdaws. If this specialized rubbish heap had existed anywhere else, it could’ve been utilized as aversion therapy for hoarders. Just seeing it all made Sarah never want to buy another knickknack as long as she lived. If she lived… There had only been a few creatures sifting through the piles where she was and she had managed not to disturb them in their scavenging this time. Once a junkman had actually had the nerve to drunkenly order her to help him lift a fallen bookshelf so he could get at a bronze bust statue he had somehow spotted glinting beneath the wreckage; once he’d retrieved the thing, it was as if he had completely forgotten that she existed! Apart from that one incident, Sarah had no trouble at all and she felt fairly confident that she could disable Jareth’s guard… what was the robot’s name? Humongous, she thought the dwarf had said.  
  
What she was not prepared to deal with was the entire goblin horde – right here, right now! Sarah’s eyes widened in disbelief: the goblin army was charging at full-speed over the hills of debris, tramping straight for her with what could’ve been a collective war-cry! She screamed and started to instinctively run from them when she remembered that she couldn’t, that there was no time for cowardice. Her eyes darted wildly for something she could use as a weapon – she couldn’t summon anything from Shadow in here and it would’ve taken too long even if she could – and she seized upon a broken metal curtain rod and brandished it like a sword in both hands, feeling a wave of dire apprehension wash over her. She would act in self-defense only; that was the nominally honorable course of action open to her. She bravely stood her ground, watching them come on: fifty feet away… thirty feet…here they came! She raised the steel rod to strike the creature that was bearing down on her – armed with a small battle-axe himself – but to her complete surprise, the thing just ran right past her! They all did! On they sped - running, galloping, even hobbling – off across the desert plain, headed up the ridge toward the forest!  
  
“What the-”  
  
Close thunder interrupted her confused pondering and she instantly turned back. Unnatural, dangerous-looking black storm clouds, miles high, were rapidly forming over the City, converging on the Castle.  
  
_The Eye!_ The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. One of the chief properties of the Jewel of Judgment was that it was a powerful weather-changer. She might already be too late! Sarah tore off over the final pile, accidentally knocking over a junklady she didn’t see, who subsequently cursed her roundly for breathing, but she didn’t have the time to stop and help her. She didn’t even have the breath to scream ‘sorry’!  
  
The gates of the City stood completely open, ominously deserted. The entire populace living here had literally just evacuated, she realized in amazement as she jogged through the small outer portal. If the goblins feared this that badly…  
  
As before, the great inner metal-clad gates began to swing closed of their own accord, but before they could even join together to activate the automaton, Sarah uttered the lynchpin for the Line Error 404 spell – and the gates stopped in their tracks! Humongous’ right arm started twitching repetitively, but Sarah didn’t stick around to watch the whole performance; before his disjointed halves could start trying to operate independently of each other – which would invariably end with the whole machine literally crashing through the paving stones several feet into the ground, the contraption was so incredibly heavy – Sarah had already darted through the gates, making a beeline toward the Castle as lighting danced about the top turrets and thunder rolled, the wind was picking up speed-  
  
And there she was! Sarah’s young original was feebly staggering across the courtyard, shoulders hunched, toward the front steps of the Castle! She was illuminated by a red glow that pulsed like a heartbeat – her heartbeat! From the way she swayed on her feet, she looked more than half-dead.  
  
“NO!” Sarah screamed in English without thinking. “STOP!”  
  
The girl actually did stop, and slowly looked over her shoulder – when she saw Sarah, her eyes widened. “What are you doing here?!” she exclaimed in Thari.  
  
Sarah quickly switched languages. “What the hell do you think you’re doing with that stone?!”  
  
This was answered not by Sarilda but by a direct lightning strike between them in the square! The force blew Sarah off her feet, but she wasn’t knocked out; her vision came back just in time to see Sarilda trying to crawl up the castle steps! Sarah hauled herself to herself upright again and, without even a single glance upward, raced across the short distance that separated them and tackled Sarilda at the ankles! The girl angrily kicked at her, but Sarah caught her left foot and commenced literally dragging her back down! Sarilda wasn’t going without a fight, though; she began to summon the Logrus power as her mother had taught her… only to find the hex she had intended to cast cancelled out by the Eye! Sarah turned her around so that she was at least facing her.  
  
“Are you totally insane?! Don’t you realize what you’re doing?!”  
  
“We are going to destroy the old worlds,” Sarilda crowed with a fierce grin, “and we will rule the new One, my mother and I! And there’s nothing you can do to stop us!” she laughed. “The Serpent is already here!”  
  
Sarah let go of her – only to grab her shoulders before she could scoot away. “You have to listen to me – that thing doesn’t care about any of us! She’ll kill us all! She wants to destroy everything! Oh, why can’t you see that?! We have to get out of here – I’ll carry you if I have to, if you’re too weak-”  
  
But Sarilda punched her in the ribs and shoved her down, making a break for it, knocking the wind out of Sarah!  
  
“Why, you little-”  
  
The girl was on her feet and just about to pry open the heavy bronze door when a bright crimson streak fell from the sky, diving for her – it was Random’s familiar! Sarilda swatted at the large crow-like bird as it nipped at her, trying to free the Jewel from its thick yet malleable gold setting. Sarah had recovered herself sufficiently and was on the verge of coming to help when she suddenly heard a sound she could only describe as a freight train… in the sky? She looked up and forgot to breathe: above them, slowly descending, was a funnel-cloud the size of the entire City! The wind finally caught Sarilda’s attention, too, but instead of horror, her features lit up in exultation.  
  
“She comes! She comes! Oh, take what is yours, and me with it!” she cried out rapturously.  
  
Sarah quickly got to the Castle wall, clinging to the heavy chains on the door in desperation. If she’d known any formalized prayers she would’ve been saying them, although realistically she wasn’t sure if anything ever escaped that Void – the Abyss on wheels! Nothing would if they couldn’t escape!  
  
But the red bird was not so lucky as to find anchorage because it persisted in its programmed task – and it suddenly got caught up in the updraft; as soon as it entered the bottom of the funnel it simply vanished! There was no flying debris; everything around them was slowly melting away into nothingness as it lowered inch by inch! Sarilda finally looked a little shaken, too. Sarah slapped her hard across the face.  
  
“Wake up! That thing will have no compunction about eating you and me and your precious mother, too! Think!” she screamed at close range, the sound level almost deafening now. As the awful truth sank in, her original suddenly looked as young as she really was, uncertain, confused, weak. Frightened.  
  
She’s just a kid, Sarah suddenly pitied her, _just a mixed-up, badly programmed kid. Never had a chance._  
  
“I do not want to die!” Sarilda suddenly cried, shocked tears streaming down her face. Sarah took her in her arms and held her tightly, ignoring the red glow, the feel of the artifact pressed against her chest – the thing was physically hot.  
  
A bolt of black lightning shot down to the square from the funnel; the top towers of the Castle were already gone! The phenomenon coalesced into a form that Sarah realized was horribly familiar. Many black tendrils bent and swayed, weaving in the air like a giant squid with right angles. The Logrus – incarnate.  
  
“Little fool,” Her terrible voice, Her attention, bore down heavily upon Sarah, “did you really think you could defeat ME?! Who gave you your power so that you could serve me at my pleasure?”  
  
Sarah now knew what Merlin had been talking about, that she had been lucky not to have ever heard the voice: it was a completely chaotic mashup, constantly wildly fluctuating in tone, pitch, and range, the effect terrifyingly alien. There was no perceptible ‘gender’, so-to-speak, at all.  
  
“You might’ve chosen me,” Sarah brazenly shot back, figuring she was dead meat anyway, “but I didn’t choose this! You did! Why?! If you win, you’ll eventually wind up with nothing left to destroy but yourself! You need an antagonist – you need Order – to keep giving you fresh material to mar, to make your own!”  
  
“BLASPHEMY!” the voice thundered, crackling so badly Sarah’s ears popped! “Before the aberration of Order that manifests separateness as the unholy Unicorn, I was there – all of Me – and I will be All once again!”  
  
“So who’s stopping you?” Sarah fearlessly taunted, laughing desperately. “The Eye is right here! You could kill us both in an instant!”  
  
“What are you doing?” Sarilda asked Sarah again, this time looking genuinely terrified for her. Of what could happen to them.  
  
“Truth is,” Sarah slipped back into English lazily, “without our conscious cooperation on this one, for all your showy theatrics and your impressive special effects, you can’t do shit. And we both refuse. So let us go. Right. Now.”  
  
The very air visibly shook between them - the Sign was growing even larger!  
  
“I just had to get that off my chest!” Sarah yelled to her original in Thari. “Sorry things didn’t work out for either of us! I know it’s sort of pointless now, but I’m Sarah Williams! What’s your name?”  
  
The girl smirked. “Sarilda! Sarilda Aricline-Barimen!” She studied Sarah’s eyes a moment. “I recognize the difference, of course, but you seem to have inherited my stubborn pigheadedness!” She glanced up at the colossus the Logrus was becoming. “What are we going to do?! I never intended to cross Her! The Dark Lady can crack anyone’s will! She will torture us! What’s the use of resisting Her? There’s no way out now!”  
  
Sarah was all too aware of the fact that she was holding her original – Sarilda – upright, more than the poor girl was standing under her own power at this point; the Eye had all but sapped her lifeforce.  
  
The Left Eye of the Serpent. The Jewel of Judgment. The original Pattern was inscribed within its crystalline, ruby depths – and if one could successfully complete the Pattern, any of them…  
  
_Eureka!_ “The Jewel!” Sarah exclaimed, pointing down at it, where it was now glowing weakly, “the Pattern in the Jewel! Can it be…?”  
  
Sarilda clasped Sarah on the shoulder, the hard, inhuman determination returning to her eyes, leaking to her lips in a small, knowing smile. “You are one of mine.” The serious statement seemed laughable coming from such a young girl, but Sarah realized the extreme gravitas behind the utterance – what by continuance it implied – and Sarilda raised the Jewel to eyelevel-  
  
The wind suddenly lifted at them; they both wrapped their arms about the chains as their feet lifted off the ground, their legs trailing out behind them!  
  
“It was a worthy idea!” Sarilda screamed. “But I fear this is the end!” Those huge, black angular tentacles were smashing everything within their reach indiscriminately, adding to the mess that was flying away into the chugging, howling oblivion above them!  
  
Oh, for a shielding spell! Any sort of protection at all! That stupid ruby! All of existence was going to come to a screeching halt because of some dumb bauble both powers were fighting over! Somehow Sarah didn’t think it would look good on either of them, and she nearly had to stifle a crazy laugh at the thought.  
  
And that’s when she remembered her own dumb bauble, the topaz-colored chunk of glass that she’d been wearing and/or carrying day in and day out for months on end – an external power supply, Random had intimated, one strong enough to kill her with the wrong application, she had covertly discovered that fateful night in Mandor’s library. But if deployed and augmented correctly…  
  
“Sarilda! SARILDA!” she had to scream twice to get the girl’s attention; it was almost impossible to be heard now. “Can you use this?” she over-enunciated so the girl could at least read her lips, glancing down at the brooch on her own chest; it was glowing, too, now, ever since it had come in contact with the Jewel. A look of recognition crossed Sarilda’s features – and the hurricane-force wind pulled harder at them in response!  
  
But the girl wasn’t deterred; she closed her eyes and started muttering something Sarah couldn’t make out at all… she started to feel very cold, as cold as any trump; she could see her own energy flare out as if she were on Suhuy’s Revealer device! She closed her eyes, not wanting to watch-  
  
The noise stopped. The wind was gone. The door was gone. She was floating! Sarah cracked open one eye, almost afraid to look – and saw that she and her original were suspended inside a red, egg-shaped bubble, just big enough for the pair of them! Just outside the ruby-colored membrane, she could see the world around them getting torn apart, twisting, stretching, melting away. But they seemed sheltered in here.  
  
“We must still hurry,” Sarilda’s voice lightly echoed in the small space, “even the Pattern cannot stand long in a place like this.”  
  
“So, you’re telling me you’d be willing to switch sides?” Sarah asked dubiously.  
  
“I could as easily ask you the same question; you wear Court colors yourself,” the girl noted snarkily. “I’m saying I’m willing to admit that we were wrong, or at least that we went about it the wrong way. Anything beyond that will have to wait. Are you ready?”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For your Pattern initiation, silly!” she laughed. “Just do as I do.” Sarilda took Sarah’s right hand firmly in her own and raised the Jewel up to her face once more. “Look into it like this,” she instructed.  
  
Sarah bent down to meet her; they stared into the ruby’s depths face-to-face.  
  
There. The discovery, the impending silence, felt as loud and as powerful as the raging lightning that lit them up from outside, that was engulfing the world about them in flames. There was no longer any feeling of floating, but neither girl noticed; the sensation was not unlike an out-of-body experience. Something about seeing the Form upon which all the form that she knew was built made Sarah want to run away – it was simply too much for a limited shadow-being to process, to handle. She was reacquainted with the grip Sarilda had on her right hand; it had tightened.  
  
“I’m not about to let you be a coward now,” she chided her. “See that crack in the bottom-right corner?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“That’s the entrance. Come on, it’s actually not as hard as the walking Pattern, from what I’ve heard, especially for one who has already completed the physical trial. In fact, the three-dimensional form of this one reminds me… well, best not think of it,” she carefully self-censored, dragging Sarah along mentally to the starting point. The perspective altered so much it was as if they were no larger than tiny grains of sand!  
  
“Advance not!” a voice suddenly boomed – this one wasn’t human-sounding, either, but at least it had a form of coherence, like a modulated syllabic genderless roar. “You are not permitted the higher initiation, demon-child; your shadow-self may not enter at all.”  
  
“You’re not exactly my favorite power, either,” Sarilda brashly mouthed off, “but we don’t have much of a choice at present. Either both of us go through – I won’t leave without her - or we’re all going to be destroyed right here any minute! That includes you! What will happen to Amber, to Order, if the Serpent swallows you again?”  
  
Sarah felt the urge to cower under that intense, judgmental scrutiny; it felt righteous somehow.  
  
“Very well. Come then, hapless children of Perdition. Come and dare to walk in My Light!”  
  
“That’s the best invitation we’re going to get,” Sarilda remarked to her offhandedly. “I may have to use some of the power that’s protecting us before this is over to propel us the whole way through, but you were carrying enough energy to make an astral bomb; this shell is pretty thick; we should be all right. Just stay with me and stay awake! Race you to the finish!”  
  
And off they sped, down the curving blood-red corridors, only one sinuous course like a meditation labyrinth. Sarah lost all track of time, of space, of any sense of self – all there was was movement that was increasing to an almost frightening speed; the speck of consciousness that was her original was pacing her. There was a time of abrupt slowing that was terrible, seeming to demand exertion, the outrageous exhaustion of the aftermath only offset by the freefall careening down and around and through the bright path that followed, red, redder, reddest, on and on they flew like subatomic particles performing the Quantum Leap. Slowing again, even worse this time; Sarah mentally fought through, unbidden memories of her early childhood passing before her eyes in a burgundy-tinted slideshow – when was the last time she had even remembered the day she had snuck backstage at one of her mother’s theatrical performances and one of the techies caught her and showed her the lighting board? Light and a sea of ruddy monochrome, the hue of life, of mourning in the Courts; they seemed to stretch and fold like the passages. The growing sensation was not unlike when Sarah’s grandmother used to scrub her knees too hard when she’d gotten them all dirty and grassy playing outside her small house in the summers when she used to stay with her in the Hamptons. Why did it feel like that? And something new was replacing the mess, something natural yet supernatural, that sympathetically complemented her nature and extended it manifold simultaneously. The third slowing – the worst by far. Sarilda’s speck was ahead of her own, but not by much. Sarah almost felt too heavy, too tired to move, but if she didn’t she knew that she would be consumed by the force that was coursing through her now like an electrical current.  
  
“I feel your strain!” she heard Sarilda’s voice from far away. “Stand by, but keep trying anyway, even just a little!”  
  
Micron by micron, Sarah kept inching ahead – until she was hit with an incredible burst of energy and she surged on through. The end was in sight! There was vague sound now, like a mournful keening wail, but she couldn’t remember what it was. It didn’t matter now. She reveled in the warm light, just a few more feet, it seemed, a few more millimeters, impossible to tell which was which. Another burst of energy catapulted them through the course’s grand finale; all that remained was the color. Only the color. They were red.  
  
“To King Random,” she heard the girl’s voice say, “in Amber!”  
  
Then the red faded to black.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Random was pacing again; Vialle was asleep in the bed, and he envied her no end. He had ultimately proven incapable of shutting his mind off in spite of how badly he had wanted to. He had just turned in the sitting area to make the circuit of their quarters again when the holographic shimmering of a trump-entry caught his eye. Down by the floor. Stepping back, preparing to arm himself with a dagger from the bookcase, the image clarified and solidified into the forms of two girls, both in Chaosian-style costume. Both unconscious. They were holding hands. The elder one was at once familiar to him upon the briefest inspection, but the younger one bore the Jewel of Judgment about her neck – and it was only faintly glowing! There was no mistaking now; it was Julian’s brat for sure!  
  
He dashed for the door and opened it wide in an instant, surprising the guard standing on duty just outside.  
  
“I need two stretchers in here right away for immediate transport to the infirmary – no time to explain! Move! This could be life-or-death!”  
  
“Yes, sire!” the man immediately took off down the hall to get both stretchers and more men for the job. Random returned to the girls’ side and took the pulse of the one wearing the Jewel – it was slow and very faint. She’d obviously worn it for far too long, but if he removed it now she’d die for certain.  
  
_Not that the little chit doesn’t deserve it_ , he thought coldly, standing again as the makeshift ‘medical team’ arrived, separating the girls, carefully lifting them up and away. The presence of the other one with her did give him pause, though. He wouldn’t pass judgment until they had both woken up, he decided, leisurely following the procession the short distance to the laboratory room the family also used as a private E.R. Nature might even relieve him of the decision, at least for the one. Of course, then the other…  
  
He sighed, watching them get placed on the cots, getting hooked up to saline I.V.s. Once the technicians had done what they could to stabilize them and had departed, Random sat down on the side of Julian’s daughter’s cot and took the Jewel in his hands so that it would draw on something other than her; feeling her sympathetic affinity (she had obviously performed the attunement at some point), he closed his eyes and reached through it, willing her heart to beat more strongly, in time with his own healthy relaxed one, as he breathed deeply…


	16. The Outrageous Bastards Club

Chapter 16 – The Outrageous Bastards Club  
  
_Cozy…safe…_  
  
Sarah only became aware of her surroundings very slowly, partly because she wasn’t really ready to wake up yet. She felt as if she were getting over a long illness, as if the fever had broken today. Maybe she could stay home from school, she thought sleepily, and almost rolled over-  
  
When she finally noticed the feeling of something uncomfortable stuck in her left arm, on the inside of the elbow, in her vein…  
  
Sarah pried her eyes open. The view of buttressed greystone ceiling jolted her the rest of the way awake. Looking down, she saw that she was in a small bed covered in white sheets and blankets. Her left arm was hooked up to a clear IV drip, although instead of there being a plastic bag of liquid at the top, there was a clear glass bottle. Wooden cabinets with glass doors, filled with thick compendiums and medical equipment, lined the far wall, and to her right she saw four more pristine white cots, unoccupied. There were no windows, just oil lamps after a fashion, along the walls and hung from the rafters. A curtain farther along mostly hid a chemist’s laboratory. The room was considerably large. Where the heck was she?!  
  
_Sarilda!_ She suddenly remembered – remembered what had happened to them…most of it anyway (the end was kind of a blur), and she shivered at the memory. In spite of everything she had been through recently, she had to uneasily admit that she was personally feeling much better than she had in ages, less anxious, more centered. More…alive.  
  
And that’s when it finally dawned on her precisely what was different, or, more specifically, what was missing: the Logrus! She couldn’t feel Her anymore! The power was gone! Her power… Sarah reeled at the thought! _If that…then-_  
  
“Take it easy,” she heard a familiar baritone male voice address her. “As far as I can tell, you’re not in any danger for the moment.”  
  
The figure had been shrouded in a thrown shadow, sitting back in a simple wooden chair to the left, not far from her cot. He leaned into the light so she could see him, and when she did Sarah’s eyes lit up in surprised delight.  
  
“Carl! We did it!” she happily exclaimed, sitting up, motioning him over. “Boy, am I ever glad to see you!” she laughed in relief. “How in the worlds did you ever find me? Speaking of which, where are we?” she asked a little self-consciously – and suddenly stopped smiling. “You didn’t see my original in here, did you? Was she here, too? Or…did she…”  
  
‘Carl’ slowly stood up and paced over to her bedside, but he wasn’t really smiling. In fact, he seemed to be studying her a little bemusedly. Sarah noted that he had five o’ clock shadow, that his hair was a bit messier, his clothes a bit dirty. He carried a slight smell of horse, as if he had been riding recently…and in a flash she put two-and-two together and gasped, covering her mouth with her hands, as he stood there towering over her. Slight amusement had come into those impossibly green eyes.  
  
“Ohmygosh, Prince Corwin! I-I mean, your Highness!” Sarah stammered. “Forgive me, I had no idea, I thought-”  
  
But he put up a hand to stop her scared rambling. And quirked a smile for real.  
  
“You just thought I was some ghost-man that you knew?”  
  
She nodded, speechless. He went back and dragged over the chair, sitting down beside her. He reached toward her and gently pulled her hands away from her face – his hands were still gloved in his signature silver leather; he searched her features, her eyes a moment longer, as if committing them to memory.  
  
“So you’re the kid who sprang my double from that dungeon cell back in Chaos,” he let go of her, lightly frowning through his smile as he casually sat back into the chair.  
  
“I had help,” she offered quietly. “You’re not… angry with me, are you?” It had just occurred to her that she could be in awfully big trouble if he was!  
  
Corwin just sort of shrugged. “Not at the moment, anyway,” he folded his hands in his lap, “although you have unintentionally caused me some amount of trouble already. There’s something about finding Chaos-bred assassins breathing down my neck one morning over coffee that I have to dispatch publicly before breakfasting in another shadow that tends to leave me with the impression that it is suddenly common-knowledge in certain circles that I’m on the loose again. Especially when the one of them I left alive long enough to question confirmed my suspicions.” He shook his head, looking away. “I suppose realistically it was bound to happen sooner or later, even if it was just hearsay through the old spy networks.” He looked back to her. “And my ghost probably pleaded his case well; he can be a charming old devil when he wants to,” he gave a teasing lip-smile.  
  
Sarah wasn’t totally sure of just what to say! The truth still seemed her best bet, though. “Actually, he tried to brush me off twice before I pestered him enough that he was willing to listen to me,” she awkwardly admitted. “Guess I didn’t look like much, power-wise. It’s sort of a long story.”  
  
“And one which I’m sure will be worth hearing in its entirety once you’ve had the chance to settle your thoughts and memories and compose it,” he graciously answered her without even a hint of sarcasm, “but I’m afraid I haven’t even the time for the rough version. In fact, it seems I only discovered you here by chance. Whenever there are conspiracies afoot that involve us, the first place to look for fresh evidence, perpetrators, and information is always right at home,” he gave a small, bitter smile. “We’re just like that. Always have been. Sometimes it pays to check out the dispensary, along with a number of other places that can be spied on from within the Castle… but you don’t need to know more than that,” he ended carefully, somehow managing to make it sound diplomatic. “As for your…friend… I am not perfectly certain of where she is at present, but when I arrived in a hidden section of the barracks downstairs, a young lady who looks rather like you was being marched down to the dungeon under heavy guard – that was some time ago, at least a couple of hours hence, maybe longer. It’s a small wonder that the noise from the phalanx did not wake you if she had been taken from in here, although perhaps not; you look like you’ve been through hell,” he poured her a glass of water from a pitcher on the stand by her cot and handed it to her; she nodded thanks.  
  
“Does fresh out of the Logrus and the Pattern one right after the other count?” she acidly joked, taking a careful sip and then another; it almost hurt to swallow just yet, her throat was still a little raw.  
  
Those emerald eyes flashed momentarily. “Now I do wish I had time to hear your tale!”  
  
There was the unmistakable tramp of a pair of thickly-heeled boots echoing from way down the outside hallway, growing closer by the sound. Corwin was instantly on his feet.  
  
“I must go before the others discover my presence,” he rapidly whispered, taking a trump deck out of his side pants pocket, fanning the Unicorn-backed cards, choosing one. “You can do me reparatory service by telling no one you saw me. Did my ghost happen to mention where he planned on going next?”  
  
“Back to your Pattern, but I don’t know what’s happened,” Sarah whispered back. “I left him talking to King Merlin.”  
  
“King… so they nabbed him after all,” he smirked, nodding. He almost looked proud in spite of it. “Well, thanks for the confidence. Good luck with your own adventure, wherever that leads from here. Don’t be afraid to kiss Random’s ass to get out of trouble; it works – I know.”  
  
He was already going chromatically holographic, fazing out. Trumping away. Sarah smiled.  
  
“Safe journey, your Highness,” she bowed where she sat.  
  
“And you,” he raised his free hand; he was only a shimmering outline. “Goodbye… and hello.”  
  
He was gone.  
  
Two seconds later, King Random himself entered the room – via the door.  
  
“So, you’ve finally deigned to join us!” he greeted her sarcastically in English, walking over. “I seem to recall warning you about darkening my doorstep for a second time… although, I suppose doing it to return stolen property of the Crown and saving the worlds might be reasonable instance for one-time clemency,” his tone turned slightly teasing as he seated himself. And suddenly noticed that the chair had already been pulled close. “Who was here before me? You weren’t supposed to be receiving visitors; I stationed a guard just outside the door.”  
  
“I…” she painfully hesitated. Would Corwin find out somehow? Would he come to harm?  
  
“Sarah,” Random tersely exhaled, crossing his arms, “I’m not a patient man, and you literally owe me your life just now – you appeared out of thin air unconscious and dangerously dehydrated at my feet in my private chambers. I was under no obligation to tend to you. And we both know you’re a lousy spy. So spill your guts already.”  
  
Sarah closed her eyes. This was simply too embarrassing a second time around. “No harm will befall him?”  
  
“Can’t and won’t promise that. The name!”  
  
Sarah opened her eyes again, regarding him uneasily. _Sorry…_ “Prince Corwin,” she whispered.  
  
Random’s bright blue eyes widened in disbelief. “Who did you say?”  
  
“I said Prince Corwin,” Sarah irritatedly retorted, crossing her own arms, “although I guess I can’t prove it; you don’t seem to have any security cameras in here.”  
  
“Don’t get sassy with me,” he scolded, “and it is a security issue. You’re positive it was Corwin? You’re that familiar with what he looks like?”  
  
“Well, yeah, I should be – I mean, I was running around with his Pa-” Sarah abruptly stopped, realizing that he had successfully goaded her into heedlessly rambling.  
  
Random seemed obnoxiously amused by the outcome, however. “Go on, finish that thought,” he freely taunted her.  
  
Sarah wouldn’t even look at him. “His Pattern-ghost… before King Merlin was able to reach me, to warn me of the impending catastrophe.”  
  
Random wasn’t smiling anymore; when Sarah glanced back at him again, he was studying the ceiling.  
  
“Then it was him – that sounds about right. Damn! I know he’s gotten very cagey with the others – perhaps justly so, with the issue of his new Pattern as an active point of contention – but I wish he’d at least let me know when he’s going to be here! I’d actually like to help him if I could!” He looked back at Sarah. “He told you not to tell anyone.”  
  
“Yeah,” she sighed.  
  
Random smirked. “Well, I may be his youngest brother, but I still outrank him – you’re safe on that count. If he ever appears to you again out-of-the-blue, tell him from me that I said hi and I need to talk to him soon; we might be able to settle this problem just between the two of us. At least I’d like to take a crack at it before someone else takes it into their head to try and mar the blasted thing – we don’t need to be going through that again.”  
  
“No kidding,” Sarah murmured, looking at the blankets.  
  
Random’s demeanor softened just a hair. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“Probably better than I should,” Sarah laughed a little uneasily. “I’m alive!” She stopped and really considered it, though. “Maybe a little sore and weak still. How long was I out for?” she suddenly thought to ask.  
  
“About six-and-a-half hours from when you arrived if you only woke up recently. I ought to charge you for the night, but I know you have no way of paying me,” he dryly quipped as he carefully removed her IV, wrapping her arm with medical gauze to keep it from bleeding. “Oh well. We’ll get some nourishment into you anyway; your presence is required at your original’s trial – you’re our key witness. The whole proceeding has been on hold, waiting for you to come around.”  
  
The reality, the implications, smacked Sarah upside the head. _Of course…  
_  
“…what’s happened to Sarilda?” she asked tentatively.  
  
Random stood up. “She’s in the dungeon at present; under the late king Oberon that’s where she’d stay, but I’ve been trying to update our legal process somewhat for certain cases. I’ll order some simple food to be brought up for you, and a serving woman to help you with whatever else you might need to get ready,” he walked back toward the door.  
  
“What… could happen to her?”  
  
He stopped. “I can’t rightly answer that question. There are no special provisions on our law books for minors as there are on your home shadow, if that’s what you’re asking. The charges are serious. Your testimony for or against her will have considerable influence on the outcome, however. Can I count on you not to keep me waiting any longer than absolutely necessary before we commence?”  
  
“Of course, your Majesty.”  
  
“Good,” he glanced over his shoulder with a dangerous little smile. “Then I’ll be seeing you again shortly.”  
  
The thick, polished wooden door opened and closed.  
  
Sarah deflated the moment he was gone. She had definitely not signed up for this! And the gravity that her role in the mess had taken on was just too much. It wasn’t long before there was a knock on the door.  
  
_Good gravy, who is it now?!_ She thought in an odd, overworked state of mind; she wouldn’t have been surprised at all if Sir Lancelot of Camelot had strode on through the door in full armor, wanting to talk complicated politics with her!  
  
But it was just the aforementioned serving woman, bearing a tray with a bowl of bone broth and a small, round loaf of freshly baked wholegrain bread with nuts in it, still warm from the oven and meant to be dunked. Sarah just kind of picked at it at first, but soon the needs of her body overrode her mood and her nerves and she ravenously wolfed most of it down, only leaving a bit of the crust at the end. Once she was quite finished, the woman brought over a low, flat washbasin and a pitcher and proceeded to help her with a fast sponge bath; the experience was a bit embarrassing for Sarah, but the servant obviously thought nothing of it. After fixing Sarah’s hair as best she could – simply but nicely braiding it back – she roughly rinsed the girl’s clothing out on the spot in the same soapy water, then excused herself to dry them on the manual rolling-ringer machine downstairs, leaving Sarah in a thick white robe procured from one of the cabinets, pointing out the ‘facilities’ underneath the foot of the cot; Sarah balked at first, but at length decided it was the servant’s problem, not hers – this was a medieval castle, after all…  
  
She was practically on pins and needles, tentatively pacing, hanging onto the walls and furniture for support, by the time the woman returned with her freshly-pressed Chaos-garments. The pants were obviously not meant to be handled this way – one leg looked far longer than the other – but they strangely evened back out as Sarah put them on, thanking the woman but insisting that she was perfectly capable of dressing herself. The lady left in a slight huff at being shoved off like that, but made no remark, taking the used food tray and dishes with her. Sarah found her carry-all bag in a drawer on the table beside her cot; the overnight clutch was a strangely warped – a ruined relic now – but her journal from Amber actually looked like it had survived that utterly crazy trip in one piece! She donned her trump hollister out of habit; it was pointless now, but she had grown accustomed to the feel of the thing, it was oddly comforting. Not five minutes later, another knock at the door announced another stranger: an armed guard. Sarah fought down a reactionary wave of apprehension – his stance, his actions were far too familiar for comfort – but, to her small relief, she did not recognize him, and he only offered his arm for her to lean on for support as they exited the room together, slowly walking down the hallway to the left. Once at the end of it, they turned left again, following a slightly smaller passage until they came to a very short flight of stairs to the right with two more armed guards standing at the top in front of a closed, ornately-carved polished door that depicted the Unicorn, kneeling, with the Jewel of Judgment hanging from Her Horn. Sarah could only guess at where they were, but she felt she had a pretty good hunch as the guard with her helped her up the stairs (she was physically more spent – and sore – than she had realized) and one of the two at the top opened the door for them, stepping aside to let them pass…  
  
Sarah was surprised; this was no courtroom or even a formal throne room. In fact, if she dared think it, the place almost looked like it could be-  
  
Her train of thought derailed; Sarilda was already there, seated in the middle of a long wooden bench against the far-left wall, her wrists and ankles manacled in a thick, black metal that Sarah had only seen samples of in Mandor’s exotic collection of armor and weapons. Chaos-forged restraints here? Sarah was led over to the bench also, but was allowed to sit wherever she pleased on it, and she took the right end near the corner of the room; her counterpart was very obviously in a foul mood – the girl wouldn’t even look at her as she sat down.  
  
The room was nicely spaced, but not all that big – the ceiling couldn’t have been more than ten feet high – and while the bits of bedroom furniture she had glimpsed through an open doorway as she had come in looked almost modern, the front sitting room definitely had a very medieval vibe to it, with its neutral, warm wool carpeting for insulation and scant hand-carved wooden furniture. A round and a rectangular table were stationed at the inner side of the room with benches, as well as what could’ve passed for an ancient coffee table in front of them, along with two high-backed wooden chairs with arms – one positioned against the near wall, one in the middle of the room, angled to face the others - completing the ensemble. The chair in the center was more ornate, however, featuring a carved representation of what had to be… the Crown of Amber?! These were the King’s apartments! A marble bust of the late Oberon Barimen gazed imperiously from the top of the wooden bookcase on the near wall to Sarah’s right, filling a little of the empty space between them and that chair. And Random paced out of the inner rooms to join them; both Sarah and Sarilda rose in deference, albeit Sarilda had to be forcibly hauled to her feet by the guard stationed at her side. Random seemed to cheerily ignore her petty insubordination.  
  
“You’re looking a bit better, Sarah,” he complimented her shadow – in Thari.  
  
“Thank you, your Majesty,” she managed to reply (it still felt weird curtsying without a skirt). Linguistically switching back-and-forth like this was something that she simply was not used to, either, although it only stood to reason that he would stick to the lingua franca of the realm in the presence of the others. The girls sat back down, but the king remained standing.  
  
“The proceedings will be underway,” he announced formally, “just as soon as the King of Chaos arrives.”  
  
Sarilda looked up at that!  
  
“Oh, yes,” the king continued, walking over to her, “you didn’t think this mess just involved your old, profligate Uncle Random’s jurisdiction, did you?” He forced the girl’s chin up to look her in the eye; she stared back defiantly. “Your rash course of action nearly cost us everything! This case involves us all - both sides.”  
  
The sounds of argument just outside the door caught his attention, distracting him; he turned toward the noise instinctively fast, letting go of her and crossing the room in a breath. The door flew open and in burst…Mandor?! The guards just outside were frozen in their tracks!  
  
“Sarah!” he exclaimed upon seeing her, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you-”  
  
But he was grabbed from behind in that single moment of distraction – with the king’s own dagger at his throat! Sarah had been on her feet to go to him, but the guard near Sarilda blocked her.  
  
“What is the meaning of this intrusion?!” Random roared. “I could have you drawn-and-quartered for forcing your way into my castle and my private apartments like this, relative of the High King of Chaos or not!”  
  
“Force was never any part of my original plan, your Majesty,” Mandor calmly gave answer in spite of his present circumstances, “I intended to appeal to you peacefully on behalf of my ward, if she is to participate in an official judicial hearing: while her command of the Thari language is reasonable for her level of study, her mastery of it is far from complete. I came thus to ask the boon of allowing her a simple translation spell for the duration of the trial, but upon my arrival I found the Throne Room empty and I was prevented from any normal protocol of timely approach.”  
  
Random narrowed his eyes. “I know that only half of the line you’re spinning me is even nominally-”  
  
The door burst open again, this time without interference, and a small red-headed lady in a sumptuous green-and-lavender gown rushed in at full speed, crying, “Mandor, what in Amber possessed you-”  
  
And stopped in her tracks, her bright green eyes wide, seeing the situation in progress; her personal concern for the restrained man was painfully obvious. Random glanced between the two of them as they looked at each other, and audibly groaned, lowering the dagger.  
  
“Fiona,” he addressed his half-sister, massaging the bridge of his nose with his free hand a moment, “you know I really do my best to stay out of your hair, but don’t you think we have enough problems without you openly taking up with Chaosian nobles?”  
  
The princess boldly walked over to them, taking Mandor’s left arm, glaring daggers at the guards; they released him, but kept him under crossbow. “You may be my king, Random, but you are not my father,” she shot back coldly. “If you must blame anyone for our happiness together, blame Merlin; I would have never even been aware of this man’s existence had we not been introduced off in Shadow. And I will personally take full responsibility for his presence in Castle Amber, for he is not only my invited guest, but my fiancé.”  
  
Sarah could not believe what she was seeing and hearing – and it was all she could do to keep from laughing aloud! _Foreign ambassador, my foot! It was the princess! Talk about a long-distance relationship, sheesh._ And now she got to worry about them, too; Random looked none too pleased.  
  
“I may not be our father, Fi,” he started again, more collectedly, “but I am still your king, and I do have the legal right to forbid your marriage to someone if I deem them politically and personally dangerous both to you and the realm,” he pronounced gravely, “but we will discuss this matter later and in private. And since you have seen fit to impose yourself here in the middle of a legal matter that didn’t concern you at all, I will avail myself of your presence here until I see fit to dismiss either of you. Now,” he turned to Mandor, “if you expect to receive any clemency from my hand at all, Sir Intruder, you will release my men at once.”  
  
“Your wish is my command,” Mandor replied in a courtly tone with a slight nod of deference – and two of his metal spheres flew into the room, landing smartly in his right hand; the men that had been frozen rushed in also, swords drawn, but Random made them stand down.  
  
“It’s all right, the situation is already under control in here,” he reassured them. Then thought better of it, eying the dark metal orbs the Chaosian man was holding; they fairly bristled with a power antithetical to his own. “Disarm him.”  
  
“Wait!” Fiona intervened. “Allow me.” A look of questioning passed between brother and sister, but he relented with a light snort, nodding. “Be quick; we’ve wasted enough time.”  
  
The princess reached into the large side pocket of Mandor’s black, shiny jacket – something he wore to travel, Sarah realized – and withdrew a soft black leather strawstring pouch; she opened it and he deposited the spheres from his hand, where they lightly clicked against the others inside. She also took his black-and-white leather trump pouch from his breastpocket – and his gaze flicked to Sarah as she did so: a small, half-scolding/half-teasing look of acknowledgment. Of remembrance.  
  
“These will be safe,” Fiona quietly reassured him before handing them over to Random. “Won’t they.”  
  
“Pending good behavior for the remaining duration of his stay, along with a signed statement that he will not be returning to our court against without going through proper legal channels; you’re putting me in a very awkward position with this one, Fi.”  
  
“As it pleases his Majesty,” Mandor acceded with a flourish.  
  
Random glanced warily between the pair one more time and finally sighed, looking fatigued. “He can take the chair against the wall,” he addressed the one guard who had remained with him. “Keep him covered.”  
  
“Yes, your Majesty.”  
  
Their small, tense party shifted positions while the king retreated to his inner chambers with the Chaos lord’s arcane possessions; he came back about a minute later.  
  
Sarah’s eyes were practically glued to her old guardian, who was currently keeping his eyes to himself, his legs crossed loosely at the ankles, his hands folded. Fiona stood to his left between his chair and the bookcase, her hand resting on his shoulder. This was simply insane! Didn’t he understand what danger he was putting himself into here?! What in the world…  
  
The king of Amber noted where Sarah’s attention had drifted upon his return and fairly guessed her train-of-thought. “Don’t look so shocked,” he said to her in English with a wry smirk, knowing full well that his high-ranking prisoner only spoke Thari, “he understood the risk perfectly, and counted on the fact that I wouldn’t kill him in the presence of all you girls – he deliberately used you to save himself. I’d venture to guess he’s really here to try and glean some valuable information from being present at the endgame, but he will learn nothing of any use to him.”  
  
The sound of whispering caught his attention and Random spun around to see Fiona whispering in Mandor’s ear; there was a light lip-version of his crooked grin on his face that pulled at Sarah’s heart in spite of herself. Fiona met Random’s accusatory glare with an expression of innocence mixed with insolent challenge. The king walked over to them.  
  
“Your duty, then, Lord Mandor Sawall,” he addressed him in Thari, ignoring his sister completely, “will be to sit quietly in this chair where I can see you and not to interfere any further in the proceedings. If you so much as utter a single word without being directly spoken to first, there’s going to be a crossbow bolt in your heart, regardless of the company, is that perfectly clear?”  
  
Mandor gave a single nod of agreement, almost seeming at his ease, which annoyed Random to no end, but there wasn’t much the king could do about it without going back on his word – and his prisoner knew that, too. Random wasn’t certain what worried him more: the fact that this preternaturally charming, unholy creature had actually won over his smartest sister, or that he wasn’t even a Barimen and he was this good at playing the game!  
  
“I suppose as a matter of form,” the king continued, “I’d better ask if I should be expecting any more people barging into my private quarters unannounced, or are you two it?”  
  
“Only us, your Majesty,” the princess answered imperiously for them, “unless you are counting your nephew the king of Chaos, whom I imagine will appear unexpectedly in abrupt fashion. Will you insist on frisking him for the proper paperwork as well?”  
  
A low growl had started in the back of Random’s throat, but it was cut short; he was suddenly at attention, staring into space at something none of the others could see – definitely a trump call.  
  
_Saved by the bell_ , Sarah let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding.  
  
“You haven’t missed much,” the king addressed the thin air, “but I do have one bone to pick with you, probably nothing you would consider serious, but… yes, come to me, and welcome.”  
  
A holographic, shimmering hand and forearm appeared clasping Random’s right arm as he extended it, quickly followed by a chromatic flux in the shape of a man, which solidified into the king of Chaos, robed and crowned in his humanoid form, standing before him. An aurora of fire danced along the many points of that thin, black diadem. The girls were signaled to stand again; even Mandor was ushered to his feet.  
  
“Your Excellency,” Random hailed his nephew.  
  
“Your Majesty,” Merlin greeted his uncle in turn. And glanced past him, then sighed in annoyance, nodding. “I take it this is the bone in contention?” he eyed his foster-brother, letting go of his opposite number. “What happened?”  
  
“Oh, nothing more than him sneaking into my palace to tryst with your Aunt Fi, apparently, and then freezing a couple of my guards and forcing his way into my apartments. At least that’s all I know about so far,” he turned casually in his prisoner’s direction.  
  
Merlin was livid. “Mandor, while I’m not about to judge your personal affairs, this level of a breach in protocol directly against the functioning head-of-state of our powerful ally under the Concord is an outrage and you know it,” he bit out coldly. “I will not allow you to so casually use both my rank and my sentiment for you as a shield.” He turned back to Random. “I leave this matter entirely in your own hands. Do what you will with him, short of killing him. He knows the law on this point well enough, and willingly breaks it.”  
  
Random almost seemed to enjoy mulling over the possibilities – but he sighed. “As much as I’d like to take you up on that offer, you’re not the only one he’s currently using as a shield,” he glanced at his fiery sister, who was glaring back, arms folded, “and the final result might actually be more trouble than the initial incursion. I’ve ordered him silent for the present time to minimize further interruptions.”  
  
“Not to sound flippant, but the inability to directly influence the outcome here might almost be punishment enough,” Merlin quirked a rueful smirk – that Sarah immediately associated with Corwin now. “As taciturn as he can get at times, it can be almost impossible to keep him from trying to steer events, socially and otherwise. Was this your whole complaint against him?”  
  
“Yes – oh, he had made some feeble excuse about a translation spell for his former captive,” the king gestured toward Sarah, “but I doubt that it’s really necessary. You are understanding us all right?” he inquired.  
  
Sarah nodded. “I’m catching the vast majority of what’s being said, your Majesty, although I do have to admit that every once in a while you’ll say a word I don’t know; Amberite Thari’s a bit different. I can mostly get the meanings from the context, though.”  
  
Merlin just looked at his foster-brother. Mandor was simply too inscrutable to unriddle completely; his intentions and subsequent actions could be so tangled it was usually impossible to tell where altruism, selfish gain, and sabotage began and ended relative to each other. But, whatever his ulterior motives were in risking his life to be in this room, at least this one concern was conceivably legitimate. “Would your Majesty allow me to perform the translation via a neutral third-party power, without bias?” he raised the hand he wore the spikard ring on.  
  
Random considered for only a moment, then nodded consent.  
  
“Sarah, come here,” Merlin motioned her forward. Sarah swallowed her trepidation and walked over to him; it wasn’t the intended spell than made her uneasy.  
  
“Your Excellency,” she greeted him quietly, lowering her eyes. “Sorry I cut you off like that before…but…”  
  
“Save it,” he mouthed quietly – then spotted his calling-card ring, still on her hand!  
  
“It was repurposed,” Random noted with just a little amusement at his nephew’s shifted attention, “you’re not the only people who can pull off imprints like that. I imagine it’ll tolerate one more.”  
  
Merlin took Sarah’s hand and put the amethyst cabochon of her ring to the spikard and concentrated. Sarah experienced a sudden coolness, a mental clarity that simply seemed to enhance her own perceptions – and he let go. “Does that satisfy you, Lord Sawall?”  
  
Mandor nodded once.  
  
“All right, I think you can go sit back down for now,” Merlin dismissed her.  
  
“Won’t you have a seat yourself, your Excellency?” Random generously offered the final chair in the room – the king’s chair.  
  
“As long as you’ll be alright standing this whole time, your Majesty; I would never begrudge one of my elders…” the king of Chaos suddenly quipped good-naturedly.  
  
“If you weren’t a king in your own right, Merlin…” Random saucily fired back with one hand on his hip. His nephew proceeded to seat himself with all the dignity befitting his rank.  
  
“And what does that make me?” Fiona added quietly.  
  
Just watching them all interact, Sarah could well understand the prevailing Chaosian sentiment of just standing back and watching this family self-destruct! Regular distance between members was probably all that was preventing it!  
  
“Then without any further ado, this family tribunal is officially in session,” the king of Amber formally announced, “with me acting for and in the best interests of the Barimen family. No one but the people in this room even know the identity of the perpetrator of the high crime for which we are now convened, and I intend to keep it that way,” he shot a warning glance at Mandor, “especially in the unlikely but possible scenario that she winds up anywhere other than straight back in my dungeon. Do both of you swear never to speak of this matter outside of this place – and that’s never at all in your case,” he addressed Mandor again.  
  
“I so swear,” the Chaos lord gravely replied.  
  
“And I also,” the princess added.  
  
“Then we can commence with the testimonies. If your Excellency would indulge the company with the background history for the case?”  
  
“Certainly.” Merlin summoned up the Logrus; within seconds he had two large, leather-bound black tomes in his hands, and he banished the Sign. Setting the second aside on the small round end-table next to the chair, he opened up the first heavy book in his lap to a marked page and started scanning for a specific section of text.  
  
The book he had placed on the table was a costly-looking volume of the Book of the Serpent! Sarah had never seen one in person – it was oddly absent from Mandor’s library – but she recognized it immediately from description alone: black, reptile-scaled leather (their ‘scriptures’ were literally bound like this by canonical law) with the depiction of the Serpent hanging in the branches of the fabled Tree of Matter, all emblazoned in bright red, the color of fresh blood. She could swear she could feel the thing all the way across the room, and the feel of the Logrus beforehand had been far more sinister than she could ever remember. _Of course_ , she reflected; She now regarded her as an enemy. Sarah hoped she wouldn’t be forced to swear on the thing.  
  
“Here it is,” the king of Chaos announced. “In the Cycle of the Serpent 8529 Swayvil Epoch, Lady Tekla of the House of Aricline was found guilty of heresy and light treason by a convened court of both the Royal Council to his most exalted excellency Swayvil, high king of Chaos, and the ecclesiastical council of his grace Lord Bances of Amblerash, High Priest of the Serpent Which Manifests the Logrus, for the infernal crime of organizing a violent militia cult dedicated not to the natural entropy of the Abyss, but to the active destruction of the Courts of Chaos themselves, as well as the self-inflicted immolation of individual members. All involved parties were sentenced to ignominious death, but a plea of insanity was entered by the venerable Lord Bances, due to mitigating circumstances and an overabundance of true religious fervor with no cultural outlet. Sentence was reduced to maintenance work on the Cathedral and other structures of the Church, augmented with compulsory re-education studies for the cult followers, but Lady Tekla Aricline was henceforth banished from the Courts of Chaos forever, with her name stricken from the Book of the Serpent and her spirit doomed to wander after death reclaims her body.”  
  
Merlin closed the huge book with a resounding thud and put it down on the coffee table, underneath the religious tome. “By our own reckoning of time in the Courts, that all happened just a little over 200 years ago… which would be approximately twelve-and-a-half years go, Amber-reckoning. Mandor here might actually remember it – were you home at the time, or were you still traveling?”  
  
“I was home,” the Chaos lord answered definitively, “and I do remember, although thankfully our House was no further involved than a handful of the servants, as it turned out. She had been deliberately targeting the lower echelons of our society, you see, appealing to people’s private insecurities with the call to a bloody religious revolution and a glorious end to the world they had known, promising things she could not possibly promise. The uprising was put down quickly enough that it did no permanent damage to the Houses or the Church, and aside of that entry that his Excellency has just read aloud for you all, to my own knowledge it has not been spoken of in Chaosian society since that time. It can be rather easy for even the most wary of us to forget the exiles, with the time-difference-”  
  
“That’s enough,” Merlin cut his dissertation short; Mandor only gave a slight nod of acknowledgement and lowered his eyes once more. “He is right,” the king of Chaos conceded. “Culturally, we have a decided habit of discarding embarrassing debacles in our history as a form of saving face. And it is nigh-to-impossible to track the movements of practically an entire civilization that can shadow-pull from point A to point B at will. Our so-called ‘lesser criminals’ can and do often slip through the cracks, so-to-speak, into the outer shadow-worlds, although few ever voluntarily travel out so far as the Dancing Mountains, let alone cross them into Order – great levels of Order are as torturous for most of my people as the Black Road is for those Order-born.” Merlin looked at Mandor for a moment. “In fact, it may not be inopportune that you have an extra Chaosian witness here, your Majesty, for it was he who first brought to my attention the possible lineage of Sarah’s original, what it might portend. We were on the lookout then – I even dispatched a small army of spies – but if I had had any inkling that it was really related to this, I would have taken the risk of informing you immediately myself.”  
  
“That was all?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Will the accused please rise?” the king of Amber addressed Sarilda – and Sarilda literally levitated off of the bench! The guard stationed next to her was surprised, but he grabbed her fast enough before she could float away.  
  
“What are you doing?!” Sarah frantically hissed through her teeth.  
  
“You’ve asked me that question too often,” Sarilda whispered back with a little rebellious smile. “It hardly matters at this point – I’m going to be imprisoned for life at best. I’d rather just get shot for being an obnoxious nuisance.”  
  
“Sarilda Aricline-Barimen,” the king of Chaos addressed her warningly by her full name, standing, raising his spikard, “you are in danger of making not only a mockery of this hearing, but of the power you profess to worship! Now, are you going to cooperate with us or not?”  
  
Crestfallen and a bit shaken, Sarilda soberly landed on her feet, unable to meet Merlin’s fiery gaze.  
  
“Then advance, and swear on the Book of the Serpent that the testimony you are about to give on your own behalf will be the truth – to break an oath taken thus is to be devoured on the spot, regardless of where you now stand.”  
  
Sarilda bravely crossed the room to the small table; the dark tome was easily as big as a large phone book. She tentatively placed her left hand on the picture of the Serpent… and oddly seemed to take comfort from it.  
  
“I swear that what I am about to tell this court will be the truth to the best of my ability,” she said quietly but distinctly. She looked askance of the king of Chaos. “Is that good enough… your Excellency?”  
  
“It is,” he nodded, then had an idea, turning to his uncle. “Any objections to using your chair for a witness stand?”  
  
Random gave a laugh. “Go for it.”  
  
Sarilda seated herself as bidden; those black chains she was in were eerily silent.  
  
“It’s fascinating that the Chains of Deliverance still work so far away from the Courts,” Random commented, “I may have to trouble you for at least one more set some time.”  
  
“No problem at all; I can produce them before I leave,” Merlin casually replied. Then looked down at young Sarilda. “But these aren’t really warranted anymore-”  
  
She looked up at him; he was idly fingering his spikard.  
  
“- now are they?”  
  
She vigorously shook her head no, her eyes wide. The heavy shackles on her wrists and ankles spontaneously fell open as if they had never been closed properly in the first place, and her guard removed them, handling them as if they were some strange specimen.  
  
“You may begin,” Random prompted her, pacing in front.  
  
“With what? You want me to tell my whole life story?”  
  
“Let’s try and stick to the pertinent information,” Merlin answered, sitting on the near end of the long coffee table in front of her. “Did you know of your duel heritage? Did your mother ever name your father?”  
  
Sarilda almost hesitated. “My mother had many names for my father, but none that I would care to repeat here. All I knew was that he was a Prince of Amber – that title, too, was often used as an insult. Which prince I could only guess. She did make a great fuss over my having Order-blood of the royal line, but…”  
  
“But what?” Merlin gently encouraged her.  
  
Sarilda looked decidedly ill-at-ease. “Sometimes it excited her to the point that it frightened me; other times, she almost seemed to hate it. I think she was jealous. We moved often when I was younger, sometimes not even spending an entire year in a single shadow – she taught me what they were, shadows, how to move between them, how to get what we needed to live. She told me that the Serpent had instructed her to remain as far out in the Order-worlds as she could possibly stand, and many of the environments that we inhabited made her very ill, very weak,” she looked away. “I had to be her mother nearly as much as she was mine; there were long stretches where I had to care for us both.” She wanly smiled, remembering. “Not that we ever needed much; we lived as austerely as priestesses of the Abyss – at least, that was what I was taught. She was my best friend, my tutor, my confidante. I wasn’t to trust anyone else, to talk to anyone else further than basic casual transaction. It was us against the whole multiverse, it seemed. It was not difficult at times to see why she hated the system so – how much varied hurt it gave her, gave others around us, how brief pleasure was, how pointless all the striving in the worlds was when in the end the Dark Lady takes us all again into Her embrace. Those were the times my mother was happiest – when she would teach me her faith, about the Dark Lady, when we would worship together; there were nights that she would even receive oracles directly from the Serpent. Some of them told us where to go next!”  
  
“One night I’ll never forget: we had been praying in front of the small shrine she had made that we always took with us, even if we had to leave all else behind to do it – a couple of our houses were deliberately burned down by scared shadow-people – and suddenly the Voice of the Serpent was physically speaking through her! I had to tell her of it the next day, for she had been entranced at the time, but the message to us was clear and concise with no riddles: she was to take me to the shadow-world of Heerat and there begin my training for our Great Mission, and to not lose heart for She would not abandon such dedicated servants as we! She swooned as soon as it ended and I let her rest where she was, but I roused her at first light to tell her the good news – I don’t think she was ever so happy as she was that morning, defying the Great Star of the Day as it rose, shouting insults that it would be darkened once more, that the whole multiverse would soon belong to Her! She would not even let me pack my few belongings: we closed up the altar and shadow-pulled to Heerat before she would allow me to break my fast!”  
  
Sarilda paused, looking like she was really viewing it all in hindsight clearly for the first time.  
  
“My mother changed after that. The desert climate and location of Heerat in the spectrum of Shadow seemed to better agree with her constitution.”  
  
“When was this?” Random interrupted her.  
  
“Three years ago maybe? I don’t know how to calculate what year it would have been here.”  
  
“Please continue,” Merlin urged her.  
  
“Like I was saying, it was surprisingly easy for us to assimilate, too, for a change – with so many coming and going in a trade-route shadow like that, hardly anybody pays much attention to strangers who keep to themselves and don’t cause trouble. My mother became healthy, strong – I had never seen her so strong. She could shift her entire body into other forms, some monstrous, some wonderful. She began to teach me how to do this as well – not as well as she could, for she was an initiate of the Logrus – but I could manage certain shapes passably for very short periods of time. She even taught me a spell for invisibility. But… she became horribly strict with me. Bedtime and rising were whenever she said they were; sometimes she would rouse me out of deep sleep for further physical training in the desert in the middle of the night. She strengthened my willpower by withholding food and water until I had accomplished certain feats for her. She taught me to swim in a nearby half-shadow, and once I knew enough to keep me from drowning, she left me there for hours in the middle of an ocean! She was never satisfied with anything that I did any longer, even the simple meals that I prepared for us. It was almost as if she was trying to make me feel guilty over my inadequacy as only a part-Chaosian, but it’s just a guess; she would never tell me why. She stopped comforting me altogether when I hurt, when I was sorry for all the ways I seemed to be failing her. And when she was not disciplining me somehow, we were praying constantly by the hour. Just a few months ago, she left one morning without telling me where she was going and did not return for three whole days; when she appeared again, she was half-dead but she had a box of supplies with her, the likes of which I had never seen before. Once she had sufficiently revived, she told me it was a special protective suit for swimming – the odd fabric covered nearly all my skin, and there were finlike extensions for the feet and a hard, protective device for the eyes and nose.”  
  
“It’s called scuba gear,” Random blasely informed her. “Those types of suits are common enough on Shadow Earth.”  
  
“Yes, that’s where she said she’d gotten it.”  
  
Random wasn’t smiling anymore! “Keep it coming…” he made a revolving hand gesture.  
  
“Not much to add,” she shrugged. “I put it all on, she took me out to our ocean and told me I couldn’t have supper until I’d crossed a certain distance of water wearing it. That’s just what my life was like. She was always trying for more oracles then, but they were slow in coming. At length we did learn of… Sarah,” she looked around the king of Chaos, at her elder shadow, still sitting in the middle of the bench where she had moved over, all at attention, just eating up this story, “of how the Logrus had chosen to honor her out of all my shadows by using her as my decoy for our Mission. I was exhausted every day from my training, but it was elating, thinking that we were getting closer! When the time was finally right to begin – when Sarah was sent to Amber – my mother projected a phantom of me into this city in a couple of places, first to get her attention, then to get her captured so that while you were dealing with her, we were at liberty to set the next stage into motion.”  
  
“Where was your base of operations here?” Random demanded, arms crossed.  
  
“South of the city, along the strand; we were encamped in a small cove of rocks – invisibly – within easy reach of the Faiella-bionen. There was no need to physically enter Amber itself.”  
  
“But how did you reach the True World?” Random pressed. “You could not have shadow-pulled yourselves here this close to the original Pattern; even I know that would take far too much power.”  
  
Sarilda genuinely smiled; the expression did not seem mocking.  
  
“Have you ever flown on the back of a winged dragon, your Majesty?” Her green eyes shone with enthusiasm.  
  
“Flying in general is not foreign to either of us,” Merlin replied guardedly, “but I believe we both prefer mechanical means of propulsion.”  
  
A look of sudden comprehension came over the king of Amber, though. “The big light-blue female that was circling over the bay,” he winced his eyes closed.  
  
“Yes,” she laughed.  
  
He stopped in his tracks and looked at her. “And the other?”  
  
“What other?”  
  
“The Chaos-beast that was wreaking havoc at the same time on our outlying farms, that my army had to hunt down and kill. Was that your mother’s idea of a decoy as well?”  
  
“… I don’t know,” Sarilda faltered, “I wasn’t allowed to leave the beach. I guess it could’ve been.”  
  
“It could’ve just followed their shadow-trail in as well,” the king of Chaos spoke up. “We’ll never know for certain until we find the girl’s mother.”  
  
Sarilda perked up. “She’s… still free?”  
  
“Only for the moment,” Merlin sternly replied. “My shadow-scanning device is on her trail right now. Granted, he cannot project and catalog everywhere at once, but neither can she keep shadow-pulling at this speed even using raw Logrus power to do so; it’s a physiological impossibility. She’ll have to stop sometime – she’ll die if she doesn’t.”  
  
“She’ll die if she does,” Sarilda spat out angrily, looking away. “That is what you plan to do.”  
  
“The possibility is definitely on the table at this point,” Merlin continued, “but the decision wouldn’t be mine alone.”  
  
The girl had definitely been trained to be tough; she shed no tears, but remained silent, fuming.  
  
“What did you do next?” Random attempted to revive the interrogation.  
  
She said nothing.  
  
“Sarilda…”  
  
“Can’t you guess?!”  
  
“If you refuse to speak for yourself,” Random warned, “anything I say here on your behalf will be automatically recorded as the truth, whether it is or not – that’s my right as a king of Amber. Are you really willing to risk that? We can wrap this up pretty quickly if you don’t care-”  
  
“Uncle,” Merlin stopped him with a look. “So… you snuck into Rebma, somehow broke into the chamber of the Reversed Pattern and walked it, then willed yourself to the center of the Pattern in Amber,” he filled in her story very matter-of-factly.  
  
Sarilda’s jaw dropped. “How do you even know that?!”  
  
It was Merlin’s turn to smile, although his looked rather smug. “It was the only reason you could’ve had for being so close to the Reflected City and the only way you could’ve broken into Castle Amber without setting off the arcane warning system. And you dripped a ton of saltwater onto the center of the Pattern here – the residue is still there and the room freshly reeks of the sea again. Pretty obvious.”  
  
Sarilda looked more than a little embarrassed; she hadn’t realized she’d left any kind of trail at all. “I suppose you’re going to contact Queen Moire now, too,” she sighed, eying her lap.  
  
“Eventually,” Random replied, which surprised her. “The last time I was there, the room was completely unguarded; she’s the one at fault if there’s a break-in down there – it really wouldn’t be that hard to do.”  
  
“Actually… there were guards.” Sarilda knew she probably shouldn’t be saying this, but she was dying to show off at this point, she was feeling so stupid for that one slip-up. “I was invisible and flattened myself out for just long enough to slide under the door.”  
  
Merlin was neither impressed nor pleased. “And you willed yourself into the safe in the same manner.”  
  
“…yes. It was physically much more difficult for me to compress down so far; I nearly suffocated in there before my mother trumped me back out! But I did get the Left Eye of the Serpent.”  
  
“How was she alerted that you had retrieved it?”  
  
“She wasn’t; we timed the whole operation in practice sessions for a couple of weeks prior to the event, estimating how long it would take by the time I was inside the palace. Once she had ensured that I had safely made it past the guards at the foot of the Faiella-bionen, she left Amber ahead of me.”  
  
“And the idea to return the Eye to Chaos via a remote shadow of the Logrus was your mother’s?”  
  
The girl shook her head with a slow, nigh-triumphant smile. “The Dark Lady orchestrated that part Herself, ridding that shadow-world of its puppet protector and lord long enough for me to run the course unhindered… but perhaps you should be asking your ‘key witness’ about that.”  
  
Mandor’s attention almost involuntarily shot over to Sarah, his pale eyes at once accusatory and filled with questions – but Fiona squeezed his shoulder and he presently remembered himself, careful to remain otherwise motionless. It was hard for him to let it go, though; Sarah actually missed hearing part of what came next because he didn’t relinquish her attention right away.  
  
“…shadow after shadow peeling away around us. And now I shall never go flying again,” Sarilda lamented.  
  
“If you live to see parole, you can take up hang-gliding,” Random acidly remarked, “save the ‘color’ for your autobiography, let’s stick to the facts here. You arrived, you successfully entered, but you only got so far.”  
  
Sarilda openly glared up at him, arms crossed. “You would not be standing there, taunting me and my faith, had I been any stronger,” she boldly asserted. “I was at the very doors of the citadel in the center when I heard a girl screaming at me in a foreign tongue; I turned back out of curiosity and beheld my own shadow-decoy! She ran straight for me – I could feel the Serpent urging me forward, but she was nearly struck by lightning, by the dark power… and…I… I reminded myself of what I was doing; the Logrus had formed a great swirling storm above us – but this strange red bird dropped and attacked me out of nowhere. It was like it was trying to peck the Eye free from the necklace setting!”  
  
“It was,” the king of Amber coolly noted. “I sent it to do that.”  
  
The girl reflexively looked at him, unexpectedly sheepish. “… your creature got caught up in the storm and… just disappeared.” She closed her eyes. “I hate it, but that’s when I started to lose my nerve. The other girl was getting to me, also: I knew what she was – is – but I couldn’t bring myself to abandon a part of me in there, no matter out ephemeral. And…” She had started shaking.  
  
Merlin reached across and put his hand on her arm to steady her. “And?”  
  
“…and She manifested, spoke to us as She truly is. I had never been so terrified in all my life; for all the years of devotion, all the oracles of my mother and her powers, I had had no idea that this was what She is really like! She had even appeared to me as I had always imagined Her, as I entered the City only minutes earlier, ready to take me and all the worlds into Her pale, beautiful arms. But what she really wanted was to devour us!” she nearly screamed in agony. “I… I just broke, and my own shadow protected me, supported me – the trial had taken everything out of me, and it seemed that my Goddess had come to collect what was left! She was…” Sarilda was shaking again, badly.  
  
“How did you use the Jewel to escape?” Random prodded.  
  
The girl opened her eyes, as if abruptly awaking from a nightmare. Merlin was still there, calm, supportive. Something made her look at the snowy-haired Chaos lord under guard behind him to the left, though; his light blue eyes held a strange sympathy, as if he knew… Sarah couldn’t fail to see the look of understanding that passed between them.  
  
“Luckily for us, Sarah was carrying an extremely strong external power cache – I never had the chance to ask her why, but she was – and she allowed me to divert the whole magic through the Eye; the object that held her power melted away, but it generated a force field thick enough to endure that storm, long enough for both of us to complete the Red circuit. The Pattern did not want either of us, but She didn’t have much of a choice,” she smirked a little at the memory, looking back to the two kings. “I managed to will us back here before I blacked out from the strain. The rest you know.”  
  
“And that’s everything?” Random pressed.  
  
“Everything that you might care about, probably,” she snottily replied, crossing her arms again. The tome of the Serpent to her left smoked slightly.  
  
“Save the snark for when you’re not under oath,” the king of Chaos reprimanded her – but it seemed more for her own protection. “You can go ahead and take your seat on the bench. Sarah, you’re up next,” he turned and motioned for her. The two girls awkwardly passed each other, avoiding making eye-contact. As Sarah approached the king’s chair and the Book of the Serpent, a terrible foreboding came over her.  
  
“I must swear also?”  
  
“Yes,” the king of Amber chimed in, “and keep in mind that there’s no fifth amendment here as there is in your home country. It’s self-incrimination time.”  
  
Sarah was standing right in front of the little round table, but when she went to place her left hand on the design, she involuntarily pulled away with a gasp of pain – she had never felt anything so angry, so hostile, in her entire life; it had nearly burned her!  
  
The reaction was well-noted, unmistakable. She automatically looked up in surprised shock at Merlin, feeling all too clearly the judgment of what had just been physically demonstrated: the Logrus had completely rejected her. Neither monarch said a word, but Random walked promptly to the bookshelf and removed an equally large and heavy white-bound tome with gold filigree and emerald and amber cabochons on the spine and cover. While the first book was probably valuable as a relic, this one was intrinsically priceless. He set it down on the coffee table, the stamped image of the rearing Unicorn decorating the front, embossed in gold, facing her.  
  
“Use your right hand,” Random instructed with just the slightest note of humor in his voice, “and kneel.”  
  
She had to do it facing Mandor; Sarah couldn’t even look at him, not wanting to see his reaction, his extreme disappointment after all that effort. Whatever connection she’d had to Chaos was officially lost. Getting down on one knee, placing her hand upon the tome, she felt nothing untoward this time, nothing out-of-the-ordinary at all, in fact.  
  
“I also swear to answer truthfully any questions this court has for me, to the best of my ability. As it pertains to the case,” she added, suddenly thinking to safeguard herself.  
  
“Shrewd,” Random observed, “but it will do. Take the stand.”  
  
She got up and sat down accordingly  
  
“The first order of business that is certainly pertinent,” Merlin began, “is how you even knew how to free… Jareth, was it?”  
  
This was definitely going to be painful with Mandor here. Self-incrimination city. She stared at her boots. “Back when I was… at Mandorways,” she started carefully, “I was…well, I half-managed a trace-style trump back to that shadow – I wasn’t trying to run away, honest!” she found herself confessing to her old guardian instead out of habit. “All I wanted to do was to try to talk through some things that were going on at the time with a friend I had met there, but he wasn’t at all where he should’ve been, and Jareth… got me, instead,” she uneasily looked away, but not before seeing a moment’s realization come into Mandor’s eyes before he closed them. “He did his best to get me to mistrust Lord Mandor out of personal spite – it worked, too,” she sighed, “but that plan to escape was entirely Jareth’s, as far as I know. I didn’t trust him at all, didn’t plan to, but he had a confidence to sell and the price was a one-in-a-zillion shot of having to help him in the future, and I bit.” She looked up at Merlin. “It involved the Pattern-ghost of your father, Prince Corwin, of where he was being held prisoner at the time. We freed him first.”  
  
“What?!” Merlin exclaimed.  
  
“Whoa, back it up,” Random intervened, “that’s all good information, Sarah, but he’s going to need a little more context than that. When was this?”  
  
  
”I found Ghost-Corwin when I was staying at the Ways of Sawall,” she demurred. Then looked back at the king of Chaos. “I had wanted to tell you – I even gave him the chance to talk to you himself – but he… didn’t want for you to feel guilty about the situation, and he insisted strongly that he was fine in spite of it. So I kept his secret.”  
  
Merlin was quiet for a moment, staring off into space. “He was where I had left him, then?”  
  
“I believe so, yes. He’s alright now. In fact, he was driving me home when you were trying to call,” she almost laughed a little; it sounded so weirdly mundane.  
  
Merlin just sat back down on the coffee table edge, dubiously regarding her. “You’ve been busy – didn’t stay at home for long, did you? I kind of suspected that you’d kept on the move because the spies of my esteemed opposite number here found your own decoy, still occupying your house and your life, with you conspicuously absent. When all this is over, I’ll have to memory-wipe her and send her home myself, unless Mandor here would prefer the honors.”  
  
“But you can’t!” she protested.  
  
“Sarah,” the king of Chaos answered her calmly, “this isn’t punishment – I’m not even angry with you – but you need to learn that the choices you make this way do have consequences, some of them so far-reaching that you might have trouble estimating some of the possible outcomes at your age and relative level of inexperience. These things are usually orchestrated the way they are for a reason. Your faculty for such discernment will grow, but for right now you need to play by the rules. Do you understand?”  
  
Sarah almost said something, but she bit her tongue and nodded, looking down. Merlin did smile then.  
  
“I won’t ask how you did it. I will ask where Jareth made off to; we’re going to have to apprehend him, too, if it’s still possible.”  
  
She looked up. “Would you be sending him back there?”  
  
“I tend to doubt it, but it will be hard to know for sure until the situation actually arises.”  
  
“I’m telling you, he was going crazy in there – you could see it in his eyes, it wasn’t just an act for sympathy! He was that desperate to escape. I never even realized that his presence there served any kind of real function; he’d just seemed like a big bully to me, with almost no purpose, and the little I knew of him from my guardian didn’t paint a very impressive picture, either. I thought the place might actually be better off without him; when I went back through again, it was like nobody realized he was gone!”  
  
She hesitated; the real question he had asked remained unanswered. Merlin was obviously waiting. Even Random had stopped pacing and was staring at her, arms crossed.  
  
“We all made for Cor- the Prince’s Pattern,” she corrected herself. “His intention was to attempt to walk it, to become another guardian for it, but I don’t know whether he succeeded or not; Ghost-Corwin wouldn’t let me anywhere near the thing, and we left before he tried it.” The uncomfortable memory of Brand came and went; he had no relevance here. At least she hoped not. “Anyway, he was taking me home when you trumped me, and I… rudely shook you off,” she slightly winced. “I already said I was sorry. I know you were trying to protect me, but it all just came together while you were talking – what was really going on – and I was so scared that it would take too much time to explain it, let alone get you to believe me! Ghost-Corwin hellrode us back there, but we’d just missed Sarilda by seconds; the gates were closing as we rolled up.” She stopped and smirked at her original, who was just staring in disbelief. “You were this close to getting jumped by a big guy with a sword,” she teased her. And suddenly remembered something highly peculiar. “Your Excellency, does time run differently in the Logrus than it does in the shadow-world around it? Outside, I mean.”  
  
“You know, I actually don’t know that one offhand,” the king mused. “The Ghostwheel might. Why do you ask?”  
  
“Oh, I was just reminded of something weird that was said to me in there; Ghost-Corwin couldn’t have detained me for longer than five minutes and I didn’t waste time getting into the stone maze, but this malevolent creature I ran into in there told me Sarilda had been lost in that section for hours, ahead of me!”  
  
“I suppose it’s theoretically possible to experience time fluctuations within the Logrus itself; all other natural laws seem to break down inside the real one. You’re sure it wasn’t just lying?”  
  
Sarah nodded vigorously. “It was having a pretty good laugh at my expense before it tried to kill me! It…” But she cut herself off, shaking her head. “But I’m getting sidetracked. Sorry.”  
  
“We’ve heard Sarilda’s version of the endgame,” Random stated, turning on his heel to face her again, his hands clasped behind his back. “Let’s hear yours. How did your original act toward you? How did she seem?”  
  
“Well,” Sarah thought, eying Sarilda, “she was sort of wobbling on her feet, but she still had some fight left in spite of it – oh, your Excellency, for the record: don’t start supplying your army with those meal-in-a-pill things just yet unless you can figure out how to make them time-released; I don’t ever want to do that again… Anyway, she did sort of taunt me at first and I had to literally tackle her to keep her from getting inside the Castle, and all the while the storm kept getting stronger and stronger – when I first saw those thunderheads forming I was scared she’d made it! But then we had a real reason to be scared: the Logrus showed up – I know it seems weird to say that after walking through the whole darn thing, but that’s… what it was.”  
  
“The Serpent Manifest as the Logrus; conscious presence, not just the magical power,” Merlin helped.  
  
“Yes. Not to sound offensive, but after experiencing that up-close-and-personal I don’t know why you all call it ‘She’; it was really alien, the voice kept crackling, shifting…”  
  
She was getting lost in her own thoughts. “What of Sarilda?” Random broke her reverie.  
  
“Oh! She seemed every bit as scared as I was after a while, after your… familiar got sucked into the whirlwind; the storm was melting away the entire shadow as the funnel started coming down! She finally turned to me and said she didn’t want to die, and practically collapsed in my arms.” She paused. “She wasn’t just scared; she seemed confused, when she had to think it through for herself. I don’t think she’d ever really thought about any of it at all, outside of her mom’s influence, now that I’ve heard her story, too.”  
  
“Who’s idea was it to use the Jewel to escape?”  
  
“Mine, but Sarilda did all the necessary magic to protect us and get us both through that Pattern herself – she had to sort of boost me out of a certain point to keep me going. I was on the verge of losing consciousness when I heard her wish us away to you in Amber, than then I don’t remember any more.”  
  
Random was sporting a secretive little smile; there certainly was more afterward, but he wasn’t under any obligation to divulge it to the present company. “If you were going to judge Sarilda Aricline-Barimen, what would you choose to do with her? I’m merely looking for your impression.”  
  
_Yikes!_ Sarah studied her original, who was currently doing her best to study the ceiling, leaned back in the bench. _She really does think she’s screwed,_ she thought. “Juvenile detention? Community service? I don’t know. It seems to me that your main criminal is still at large. I don’t know what you plan on doing with her, but… she’s just a kid, I mean, she’s almost five years younger than me, for crying out loud! That’s got to count for something! And she’s had such a screwy upbringing; she’s never known anything like a normal life – she’s practically been raised to be a child soldier, just listen to her!” That caught Sarilda’s attention. “Yeah, I said it: your childhood was weird and I think your mom might be more than a little nuts. You would never have done any of this on your own, and you know it. When you were finally confronted with the truth, you didn’t know what to do!”  
  
Sarah looked into angry, hurt eyes that looked eerily like her own, remembered comforting her in the face of certain death. “I think what this kid really needs is a better guardian, someone who will actually care about her and for her, and not just about what they can get out of her like she’s some kind of tool; someone who can give her a healthier outlook on life and a bigger view of the world; someone who will respect what’s left of her faith, but who might be able to introduce her to a less harmful version of it.” Her gaze had drifted over to Mandor as she spoke; he seemed genuinely surprised at where her train-of-thought was going.  
  
Merlin noted their wordless interaction. “While I think I might choose differently in regard to the personage, it’s still an admirable sentiment all the same. But I’m afraid it won’t work.”  
  
Sarah looked back at him.  
  
“Exile from Chaos always applies not just to the criminal sentenced, but to any descendents that they may ever have. Entire families have been forced to leave together because of this law in the past. It is not legally possible for her to come to us, and neither would I knowingly place her with another exile. There is one viable alternative, however,” he in turn looked to Random, who had stopped pacing. “Uncle?”  
  
“I know,” he groaned, “and I know that you’re right. I just wish he were someone else. Do you think your Uncle Gérard would feel up to adopting a troubled youth?”  
  
“I think he would gladly help out her father any way he could, given the chance; they are full-brothers.”  
  
“That’s never counted for much in our family,” Random observed. Merlin was still watching him expectantly. “Damn that giant’s big heart,” the king muttered, extracting his trump deck from the inner lining of his jacket, shuffling through them. Sarah saw that the backs all heraldically portrayed the white Unicorn on a field of green… and that the woman standing next to Mandor was on one of the secret trumps he carried, from the same style of deck! That’s why she’d looked familiar! So much else had happened that it had completely slipped her mind!  
  
“Sarah!” Merlin whispered to get her attention, hurrying her back to the bench, where her pouting original irritatedly made room for her to pass the table – and nearly tripped her on purpose; Sarah avoided the sudden outstretched leg, though. It seemed that she in turn had been presently forgotten by Random.  
  
“No, nothing’s wrong,” the king of Amber stated a little sarcastically at the live trump he now held in his hand, “but I would appreciate your presence here and now if you’re not occupied at the moment…yes, it’s that important.” The king suddenly laughed. “I said important, not stuffy; you can come through as you are.”  
  
Sarah’s heart was in her throat, her pulse racing: she was finally going to see who her original’s Amber-parent was! She could only speculate, thinking of her own father. Granted, there would be a certain level of difference, but how far it went…  
  
A hand sheathed in a delicately-rendered chainmaille glove appeared in Random’s grasp, soon followed by the familiar chromatic shimmer of the transport, resolving into a tall, harshly handsome man with long sable hair and dispassionately cold blue eyes, wearing white-enameled scale-maille armor and a sword! He looked like a dire knight out of legend! And Sarah recognized him, instantly feeling chilled, remembering his name before it was even spoken.  
  
“Julian, glad you could join us,” Random greeted him warmly, pocketing the trump. “Sorry about pulling you away from the troops on such short notice.”  
  
The prince seemed initially confused upon seeing where he was – and Mandor, still under crossbow-cover with Fiona standing beside him, as if to prevent anything from happening; the guard bent his head momentarily in deference.  
  
“What is the meaning of this farce?” Julian carefully enunciated a little slowly. “This man should be in the dungeon. Or did you summon me here to remedy the matter personally?” His reaction was remarkably cool, considering his obvious first impression of the tableau! Sarah couldn’t help but notice that he spoke like he had a light speech impediment, which he had learned to talk around.  
  
“Take it easy, Uncle,” Merlin addressed him – and the man looked even more surprised at seeing his Chaosian nephew behind him! “Everything’s actually under control in here, believe-it-or-not. It’s good to see you again, although I’m sorry it’s only ever under such strange circumstances.”  
  
“Is there any other kind?” Julian quipped dryly, clasping his arm in greeting. And finally noticed the two girls on the bench at the far end of the room, watching him intently. “Random, are you actually allowing outsiders tours of the king’s quarters?”  
  
“Why don’t you take a seat?” Random sighed.  
  
Julian hesitated at his tone. “Given the present company, I prefer to remain standing if it is all the same,” he guardedly eyed his favorite sister, who was wearing a dubious lip-smile that better suited a cat.  
  
“You might need to sit down for this,” Random casually walked over to a carved crystal decanter and some glasses along the sideboard. “Care for a drink? I think I’m about to need one myself.”  
  
“Merlin, what is this really all about?”  
  
“Your daughter,” Random interjected, taking a sip, coming back and sitting down himself in the neglected chair.  
  
The prince openly stared at the two girls in disbelief. “It can’t be. This had better be a prank, your Majesty.”  
  
“I’m afraid it’s not,” Merlin answered. “I ran DNA tests, blood samples, the works – she really is yours.”  
  
Julian couldn’t tear his eyes from them. “She… you are only saying the word singular, as if… why are there two? Which one is it?”  
  
To Merlin’s amusement, both girls spontaneously pointed at each other as the armor-clad figure slowly strode toward them, still searching their faces. “The younger one,” he smiled. “The elder is her shadow-self from Earth.”  
  
Julian glanced at Sarah for only a moment longer, with about the amount of interest one might show for a fly on the wall, before disregarding her completely, turning his full attention to Sarilda. Sarah was nearly relieved that he had chosen to ignore her very existence…  
  
And the truth of her own parentage suddenly hit her with the force of a bomb: Robert Williams was not her biological father! He couldn’t be! The two men couldn’t conceivably be more different from each other! She could see where some of her own features ultimately hailed from: his hair, his facial bone structure, the hard will in his eyes – her own father, her real father, had to have some of these qualities. Sarah’s mother had had many boyfriends before finally settling down with a kind-hearted, quiet-living businessman in the suburbs. Sarah had been born almost precisely nine months after the wedding – not quite, actually – but Linda had been engaged to Robert for nearly a year before they were married, and the child had looked enough like her mother in general respects that the fact was only ever mentioned in good-natured jest, if at all, young impetuous lovers and all that.  
  
But it wasn’t that at all! Who was her father? Another actor in her mother’s troupe? One of Linda’s ardent admirers, a fan? A wealthy backer for one of her shows, perhaps? Sarah thought of Julian. Her mom had done the ‘Shakespeare in Central Park’ performances for many years prior to her marriage, but she hadn’t been in any since then. Ill-met by moonlight after a show? It could literally be anyone. Sarah had never been able to shake the impression that she had absolutely nothing in common with her father – and now that she knew it, she almost wished she didn’t.  
  
“Under what circumstances was she discovered? Julian continued. “If she is a survivor of the broken Gotterdammerung shadow, I will publicly acknowledge her, if that is your wish.”  
  
“Not quite,” Random answered, nursing his drink, “although I wonder if even your late Valkyrie lady-love would have birthed a child with as much of the Barimen nerve as this one’s got, apparently. Figures it would be one of us to finally succeed in making off with the Jewel of Judgment and nearly succeed in destroying the worlds with it.”  
  
Julian’s cool demeanor abruptly turned hot, his sky-blue eyes blazing as he shot a look over his shoulder at the two kings. “You are telling me that this girl…”  
  
“Is our fourth successful Chaos-hybrid,” Merlin supplied. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say the new petty Court game must be to breed you all out of existence within the next two generations.”  
  
The prince turned his back on the bench, closing his eyes, his face pale with anger. “Would that you had never told me of this at all,” he said quietly, with an iciness that frightened Sarah, “but I believe that you were still right in doing so. Very well. None in Amber are above treason charges, least of all our bastards. Do with her what you will; it matters not to me,” he began to walk away.  
  
“I’m glad to have your own verbal consent in this,” Random insolently smirked, resting a booted heel against the edge of the coffee table, “because I’m legally giving her into your custody – to raise.”  
  
Julian stopped in his tracks. “What did you say?”  
  
Random wasn’t smiling now. “I’m saying she needs a parent who isn’t a religious lunatic bent on sacrificing her to the Serpent, along with all of existence as we know it. I wouldn’t be involving you at all if she hadn’t brought the Jewel back of her own free will – her double seated alongside there just had to knock a little sense into her. I say she’s still young enough to deprogram, but it’s going to take someone with a strong will and a cool temperament; you’d be perfect for the job. And I do hold you partially responsible for this fiasco.”  
  
Julian slowly folded his arms, regarding the king of Amber. “How the worm turns,” he observed cynically. “I seem to recall a case of my little brother Random openly dallying with a Rebman princess as if to marry, and subsequently having no interest in or for the resultant child – not even after the suicide of the mother; there were no imposed consequences then. You were such a model father that you feel justified in lecturing me on a hideous mistake I made years ago, that I immediately repented of upon learning the truth? Martin was nothing to you until he became part of the game.”  
  
“And look where that got us!” Random shot to his feet. “He was nearly killed because of my own selfish shortsightedness, nevermind what that blood was used for! Let me tell you, there isn’t a single day that goes by that I don’t regret not being there for him when he was a kid, when he actually needed me! I consider myself lucky that he lets me have any part in his life at all – he didn’t have to, I certainly don’t deserve it! Even at that, I’ve barely gotten to have any time with him; I don’t know where he lives his life anymore, he checks back in less and less frequently. And no wonder! I’m not about to let you make the same terrible mistake, the mindset of our father that our illegitimate seed is of no consequence by dint of illegitimacy. It’s still our genes out there, our powerful Amber blood, near-immortality that we’re still playing with like it’s nothing! We still can’t account for nearly two-dozen of our old man’s by-blows; I’m not about to let this mess continue into our generation if I can help it!”  
  
“So, what are you suggesting? Putting out a multi-shadow royal proclamation that any and all comers who claim to have Barimen bodily fluids on or in them be automatically declared princes and princesses of the realm or otherwise eligible for other compensation? Would you truly give creatures of shadow that much importance?”  
  
“What I’m saying,” Random continued through his teeth, looking like he was having to work hard to keep from screaming at him, “is that we can’t afford to ignore any of our resources. The Houses of Chaos are legion,” he briefly glanced at Mandor, “always have been, always will be. Amber needs all her children, all the help she can get! Think of our own recent history – hell, think of Dalt! I wouldn’t dream of legitimizing that son-of-a-bitch now – he’s too far beyond ‘redemption’, if you’d care to call it that – but he started out very similarly, with a fanatic mother bent on violently spreading her monotheistic religion of a lion-god via army. And now look at him – a hedge-thief leader of a troop of rebels who enjoys being a constant threat to the Golden Circle and a general pain in the ass! A man of his strength and organizational skills could’ve been a general at Patternfall. And he’s just one of the only ones we know about! We have known blood-kin avoiding Amber completely for this reason or that. What I propose to do is to start searching for these people – quietly. Any who would be willing to swear eternal allegiance to the Unicorn and the One True World, as well as to swear to aid us in any way they can if and when the time arises, will be allowed to attempt to walk the reflection of the Pattern in Tir-Na Nog’th at their own peril should they so choose; it isn’t official legitimacy, but it’s still something. Anyone who can render the shadow-worlds they inhabit more permanent by their presence alone is worth keeping tabs on regardless of any other legal or moral concerns.”  
  
“While this course of action is wondrously idealistic of you,” Julian mused, “you seem to overlook the fact that the child you would saddle me with can likely assume any number of formidable physical forms, if not vanish before my very eyes. How do you propose I even keep track of her?”  
  
“I believe I can assist you on that count,” Merlin chimed in, “if his Majesty will allow it? Although I would ask the favor of private conference with yon Chaos lord for a moment,” he nodded toward Mandor with a good-naturedly teasing lip-smile. “He has more practical life-experience with these kinds of arrangements than I do. I have a pretty good idea already of what I’d like to try, but I need to pick his brain to make sure I’m going about this the right way.”  
  
Random studied his nephew a moment, standing akimbo. “You’re implying you have a way of controlling her that won’t end with her hating us all even more than she already does?”  
  
“Just for the time being, until further notice – perfectly reversible, of course, if and when it ever comes to that.”  
  
“And this would just affect her Chaos-powers? Not her will or her personality?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Random’s eyebrows raised, but he gave a single nod of consent. “Try not to be all day formulating it; your uncle needs to get back to his post.”  
  
“And what do you expect me to tell my men?” Julian asked Random incredulously as Merlin crossed the short distance between him and his foster-brother, creating a faintly glowing Silence Curtain with the Spikard; behind it, the two men were obviously speaking at normal volume, but it gave Sarah the impression of watching a TV show on mute.  
  
“Tell them anything you like,” the king shrugged. “I’m ordering you to take care of her, not forcing you to acknowledge her. I leave this point entirely up to your own discretion.”  
  
But there was a more pressing issue at hand as far as the prince was concerned; Fiona had politely distanced herself from the serious-looking Chaosian meeting-of-the-minds in progress to her right, and Julian practically shoved the king of Amber aside to get to her!  
  
“Fiona,” he took her hands in his own upon reaching her – then narrowed his eyes at Mandor behind her – “tell me that this is not what it appears to be.”  
  
“Oh, Julian,” the princess sighed, reaching up to touch his cheek, “my dearest brother,” she gave him a little bittersweet smile; he looked pained upon her emphasis of the word, closing his eyes momentarily. “You know this cannot be,” she whispered gently; he looked down at her again, an unusual tenderness in his statue-like features. Fiona glanced over her shoulder at the openly arguing white-haired Chaos lord, and that secretive, knowing smile touched her lips again. “I have moved on.” She looked back up at Julian, earnestly. “So must you, for your own sake. Take Sarilda, raise her, for us- for the family,” she amended, although what the princess had truly meant wasn’t lost on anyone within hearing range; it was all Sarah could do not to gawk.  
  
_Man, was Merlin ever serious about that soap opera thing!_  
  
Fiona turned to the girl in question, who was looking slightly petulant over being talked about this freely in her own presence! “There are so few sorceresses of any accomplishment at all in Amber, and she already shows great promise; she will require proper tutoring in her arts as she matures.”  
  
“And where will you be?” Julian asked Fiona, his voice sounding hollow, hopeless. “On the edge of hell?”  
  
“Within reach,” she answered firmly, looking back up at him, “when she finally needs me.”  
  
The prince’s expression was far too readable, though: ‘But _I_ need you. I can’t do this alone…’  
  
But the conference to their left had just ended; the privacy shield retreated back into the spikard and Merlin rejoined the company looking satisfied. “I think we’ve worked out a variant of the spell that Sarilda should tolerate well, even on a personal level. It directly utilizes the Logrus in Her Serpent aspect: it will constrict her attempts to perform arcane feats until it is removed; under normal circumstances it won’t harm her in the least, she should barely even notice Her presence.” He looked to Sarah. “This will be only a very minute fraction of what you experienced uncomplainingly for all those long months; after a relatively short period of time, she won’t notice Her anymore than we do.” His attention shifted to Sarilda. “You can consider this your official punishment from Chaos, child, but it is as much a test as it is a judgment: once you have learned to live life as a Patterner – which you are doubly at this point – you may be allowed to learn to function limitedly as a Chaosian, but only time will tell how far. Your imprinting by the Pattern will negate the effects of walking any of the lesser Logri, and you may not approach the true one in the Courts. There is, however, a certain degree of magic to be gained from the Pattern, although it is not the same caliber as that of the Logrus and the methods of operation are almost entirely different.”  
  
“I have already volunteered to aid in this,” Fiona interjected, “when we are ready to cross that bridge.”  
  
“Thanks, Auntie,” Merlin quirked a smile. “Will that be satisfactory, your Majesty?” he addressed Random.  
  
“It might do at that,” the king concurred, nodding. “All right. Will the accused stand for pronouncement of judgment?”  
  
Sarilda rolled her eyes, heaving a great sigh, but came to her feet as ordered.  
  
The king of Amber looked every bit as seriously imposing as the bust on his bookshelf. “Sarilda Aricline-Barimen, you are hereby charged with light treason, lessened to royal grand theft by mitigating circumstances. I am giving your biological father complete legal custody of you until you are twenty-one years of age – that’s five years beyond adulthood in our society. For that duration, you will be receiving private tutoring as well as performing community service for Amber by assisting your father in patrolling and caring for the Arden forest preserve.”  
  
Julian looked floored at this!  
  
“Her mother put her through a style of boot camp even our soldiers don’t have to endure,” Random informed him. “I seriously doubt that there’s anything in this situation that she couldn’t handle readily enough once you’ve shown her the ropes. And you do need to teach her why this is important – that’s the point, really.” Turning back to Sarilda, “To this, I am adding the curse of the king of Chaos, to be lifted at the proscribed age or when I say so, whichever comes first. And should you attempt to escape – and believe you me, without your magic you won’t get far; the palace is swarming with guards and servants, and even in peacetime your father commands a force of several hundred men – you will be spending the remaining duration of that time in the dungeon with continued schoolwork. Do you acknowledge the sentence and accept the judgment as pronounced? I’ll warn you, if you don’t you’re going straight back to the dungeon for twice that long – this is the extreme height of leniency I’m offering here,” he crossed his arms.  
  
Sarilda hesitated, looking at all the adults in the room in turn, lingering over Lord Mandor – the one her shadow had thought could take good care of her; he sternly met her questioning gaze and pointedly glanced back at Random. Her gaze fell to the carpeted floor.  
  
“Yes,” she finally answered, quietly.  
  
“Then approach,” Merlin beckoned.  
  
The girl bravely crossed the room, with her guard just a step behind her to her left; once she reached the gathered company, the king of Chaos summoned up the Logrus, and Sarilda closed her eyes and bowed her head both in trained reverence and so as not to see what he was about to do to her. The spell-weaving quickly came together, and soon one of the black tendrils became fluidly sinuous rather than jerky and angular, and the coils of the Serpent wrapped around Sarilda from her waist to her chest like a boa constrictor – and vanished from view, the rest of the Logrus banished.  
  
“There,” Merlin pronounced – and Sarilda cautiously opened her eyes again, looking down at herself, unable to discern what had just happened. “You carry Her with you even now; She will not leave you, as She promised,” he remarked wryly. “But you must learn to respect Order also – we are children of both powers, you and I,” he added almost conspiratorially. “If there is to be any unity or peace between them, it will be through the likes of us.” He turned to Julian. “Well, she’s all yours, Uncle. A thought, though: perhaps you could arrange for a standing rotation schedule of a small handful of men whose honor you would trust implicitly, to take turns acting as her body guard when she is with your camp in the Arden…”  
  
He didn’t have to finish the thought; Julian nodded at once without a word. The prince came and stood right in front of his daughter; he reached out and carefully tilted her chin up, seeing his own strong, defiant spark in her green eyes, unable to get over the likeness. But the rest of her…  
  
“I dare say, you look enough like your mother, in her humanoid form,” he quietly admitted, letting her go. And turned once more to the seated Chaos lord, advancing on him. “Lord… Mandor, is it?”  
  
“Prince Julian,” he acknowledged him.  
  
Julian’s demeanor went icy again. “All I can say is that you had better protect my sister out there. If you ever hurt her – if harm is allowed to come to her in any way, shape, or form – I will personally ride to Chaos with my hounds and hunt you down in your Ways like the demon you are.”  
  
Mandor seemed to take the threat rather in the stride, every bit as cool-headed as the prince but after his own fashion. “Should you ever choose to visit me thus under more amicable circumstances, we could go zhind hunting together in the Black Zone – they’re terrible eating, but parts of the corpses can make for some fascinating conversation-piece trophies; the princess has told me you collect rare specimens.” He stopped to look up at Fiona, who had dutifully returned to his side. “Your sister is not the sort of woman who will lightly suffer any man’s protection,” he faintly smiled. Then looked back, seriously. “But I fully intend to do my best. I understand,” he added quietly; Fiona took Mandor’s left hand, interlacing her own small, delicate fingers between his long, pale ones.  
  
The prince viewed them thus for only a moment longer, then abruptly turned away from then, holding out his right hand to Sarilda. “Time to depart,” he announced, producing a single trump from behind the chest piece of his scalemaille tunic.  
  
Sarilda blinked. “Leave for where? How?” she asked, tentatively taking his mailled glove, which wrapped carefully but securely about her hand.  
  
Julian gave her one of his rare smiles; it looked more than a little mocking. “For my base of operations in the Arden Forest, of course. By magic. I trust you already know how to ride a horse?” his concentration turned to the trump.  
  
“I never needed to,” Sarilda answered proudly. “My mother taught me how to float through-”  
  
“Well, nevermind what that witch, your mother, taught you,” Julian rudely cut her off; the contact was live. “You will learn to ride properly, as befits a scion of Amber, and the forest will be your true school – the necessary balance between prey and predator, between man and wild nature,” he began to lecture as he stepped forward into the trump; Sarilda rolled her eyes, following him. A second later, they were gone.  
  
“I’ll have a room on the third floor here prepared for her use, whenever he deigns to bring her back,” Random remarked, rubbing the back of his neck a moment. “I just hope we did the right thing here.”  
  
“I think you did,” Merlin smiled. “That actually went really well.”  
  
“I know,” Random eyed his nephew, “that’s what worries me.”  
  
“What? My judgment in the matter, or a later catastrophe?”  
  
“Both.”  
  
Merlin gave a laugh. “Well, they’ll probably be at each other’s throats some – he’s obviously the one she takes after – but it means they’ll really understand each other, too. Besides, having someone else to care about other than himself for a change will be good for him. It might even help take his mind off…” His attention drifted to the still-seated…pair; Fiona had taken up residence on Mandor’s lap, totally ignoring the guard!  
  
“Auntie?”  
  
“Yes, Merlin?” she smiled up at him.  
  
The king of Chaos just looked back and forth between the two of them for a second, then walked away toward the back bench, shaking his head. “Just go easy on him.”  
  
The princess laughed.  
  
“Oh, lower it already, at ease,” Random irritatedly relieved the guard with the crossbow, turning to his sister, “not that you wouldn’t deserve getting yourself shot for this level of stupidity.” He looked hard at Mandor. “Offhand, I’d say that was your official ‘paternal’ threatening that you received a minute ago – Julian has the most right of any of us on this count – but if I hear about any Chaosians making off with Prince Bleys I’m going to start getting suspicious. I was serious about the truth of this situation never leaving this room; if you desire any goodwill on my part, you will hold your tongue on this matter or lose it, is that clear?”  
  
“Perfectly, your Majesty, but, if I remember correctly, what you stated before was that the information was not to leave the family – and it hasn’t; we are distantly related already through your nephew the king of Chaos. Although your concerns over a closer union are certainly understandable.” He looked to Fiona, putting his arms around her waist. “I love your sister dearly – have for years – and I am prepared to care for her beautifully,” he looked back to Random, “that is, if we can obtain your consent to marry.”  
  
“And you actually want this man for himself, Fi?” Random asked her a little incredulously. “You’re all right with what he really is, with his other forms? No offense, Merle, but this can be a deal-breaker turnoff for straight-up Patterners.”  
  
“I have seen everything,” the princess coyly answered, stroking Mandor’s shoulder-length hair, “and I want all of him.”  
  
_And that’s way more than I ever needed to know_ , Sarah covered her eyes, her cheeks flushing again… and felt a hand on her left shoulder – it was Merlin, sitting beside her.  
  
“Still doing okay?” he asked her quietly.  
  
“Until just then, yes,” she murmured back, laughing a little with nervous embarrassment. “I just can’t get used to…”  
  
“I’ll admit that one’s a little kinky, even by our standards,” the king ruefully smirked, glancing at them across the room momentarily. “I think we can afford to ignore my clinically insane relations for the time being, though. How are you physically holding up, Sarah? You’re feeling stronger now than when you came to, I hope?”  
  
“…yes,” she said at length, seriously considering how she felt, “I can tell I’m definitely better than when I was helped into this room. I was just really weak, kinda beat up.”  
  
“It was mostly physical stress and fatigue,” Merlin nodded, “although extended esoteric work can take a chunk out of your reserves that way, too. From what I’m seeing, you’ll be fine – you’re young and healthy enough to bounce back fast from something like this.” He shook his head again, thinking. “Sarilda has got to be one hell of a kid, but I guess I can’t say I’m surprised, considering her cousins; we’re all sort of Olympic-level athletes physically, but it’s just the genes. She’s going to be a natural out there, once her father gives her the chance.”  
  
A crazy nonsequitor of an idea suddenly hit Sarah and she nearly spluttered, biting her lip to keep from laughing aloud.  
  
“What?”  
  
“It’s ‘Take Your Daughter to Work Day’,” she whispered, silently giggling in spite of herself – it was simply too absurd! Merlin chuckled at the thought, too, but a little louder – and it caught Random’s attention.  
  
“All right, what’s so funny in the back there?” he turned to them with a growing smirk.  
  
Sarah just looked at Merlin. _Busted!_  
  
“Nothing of any true importance, Uncle,” Merlin answered, “just observing the echo of a rather mundane modern Shadow Earth custom, meant to encourage gender equality in the workplace. And how easily Sarilda will probably adapt to her new environment.”  
  
“There won’t be women in Amber’s armies anytime soon; we’re not quite that progressive,” the king wryly remarked, “but I can well imagine Julian having a little Amazon on his hands if he’s not careful – I can just see her now, running with the deer he’s trying to hunt, baiting the stray manticora that wander into his preserves…”  
  
_Manticora…the manticore!_ “Ohmygosh!” Sarah gasped, wide-eyed, covering her mouth with her hands. Merlin immediately registered the instant change.  
  
“What is it? What’s wrong?”  
  
“It’s not over!” she whispered, on her feet in a heartbeat, dashing to her old guardian’s side. “Forgive the interruption, your Majesty,” she apologized to Random, who was staring at her, “but this is really important! M- Lord Mandor,” she just barely remembered to say his title, “you recall the… incident, when you first ferried me to Chaos? How we never discovered the perpetrator afterwards?”  
  
Mandor seemed to catch her sense of urgency; Fiona got up off of him. “Something else has happened?”  
  
“He spoke to me, in the forest of the Labyrinth! I literally just remembered it right now! So much else happened inbetween!”  
  
Merlin was on his feet, too. “Are you sure it was the same person? Did he appear to you?”  
  
“No, but he spoke through Lord Suhuy’s trump card – it was blacked out, but the guy on the other end knew way too much about the first attack! It has to be the same wizard!”  
  
“I can verify that odd contact,” Merlin added direly, “because I experienced something similar with Lord Suhuy’s trump just yesterday when I tried to contact him: there was a man’s laughter, but not his. Amazing what you can forget when the world’s about to end.”  
  
“What did he say to you?” Mandor pressed. “You must remember!”  
  
“There was just something crazy-sounding about him playing some sort of a game with Lord Suhuy; it didn’t make any sense! It was over so fast!”  
  
“Okay, that’s enough,” Random intervened, “if you’re going to start bringing up insular problems from the Courts, you can take it outside; I’ve had enough structural damage to my palace because of these sorts of arguments, as well you should know,” he looked accusingly at Mandor.  
  
“Your Majesty mistakes,” the Chaos lord countered, “our unknown assailant is a champion of the Pattern, we’re certain of that much. Did you at least learn his name?” he turned back to Sarah.  
  
“I tried to, but he wouldn’t tell me anything! He said if I… won this ‘round’, for Amber-”  
  
“-that I would introduce myself in person.” An ancient-looking bent-over little old man with long white hair and an even longer white beard, using a small cane and robed like a caricature of Father Time sans sickle, shuffled into the room straight through the solid stone wall beside the bookcase! Mandor’s eyes were proverbially as big as dinner plates and he was nearly shaking; Sarah had never seen him scared like this – he looked as if he were beholding the devil! But Fiona rushed over and embraced the stranger.  
  
“Grandfather!” she exclaimed happily, bending and kissing his wrinkled cheek.  
  
“It is good to see you also, child,” he greeted her in turn gently, giving her a half-hug with his free arm, “but this is no mere social call,” he turned to the rest of the astonished group, his unnervingly bright grey eyes alighting on Sarah as he stepped forward. “Well played, well played indeed, little rook of my old adversary and best friend,” he chuckled under his breath. “I have seen you discarded from our board – you held a very precarious perch for some time on the second level, but I have claimed the blackened piece, and here you stand, hale and whole. And as a man of my word, I am here also. I am Dworkin Barimen, former high priest of the Logrus of the order of Lord Suhuy Swayvil, consort of the Unicorn, founder of the Pattern, of Order, of Amber, and – in a very oblique, indirect-nigh-accidental evolutionary fashion – you.” His grin was as sharp and unsettling as his eyes; he laughed again at Sarah’s dumbfounded expression. “So now you know. You’re welcome,” he added cheekily before briefly regarding Mandor, who had mostly recollected his wits by now. “Surely you recall our last meeting in this place,” he chided the Chaos lord’s initial reaction. “I gave you no reason to fear me then, nor since. Your piece is securely in Suhuy’s possession for the moment – he guards it well in many of his moves, perhaps planning something grand to do with you later; what, I know not. You’ll have to take the matter up with him. If you dare,” he smirked. “And it took you almost too long to figure out such a simple trick; I’d expected better from a bishop.”  
  
“Dworkin,” Merlin boldly addressed the dwarfed, hunchbacked figure, “is there a reason that you’re playing some esoteric/cosmic form of _chess_ with all of us, or is it just an incomprehensible Promethean whim, out of a desire to have a continued hand in your creation?”  
  
“Yes,” Dworkin answered positively – to both inquiries, it would seem – turning to address him, “and you have no right to judge any of my actions, young Merlin, especially when they are for the mutual benefit of our entire family.”  
  
“Are you saying…” Random began.  
  
“What I am saying, grandson, is that I have just saved the both of you a great deal of trouble in the near future by allowing you to experience a little trouble right now,” he slyly looked between the two kings. “While I had held out great hopes for the advancement and improvement of Order during and after Patternfall, it seems that the Logrus has become so fixated upon Corwin’s second Pattern that the shift in attention has thrown a wrench into our usual business. I had to open a line of distraction, a tempting gambit that would occupy my rival’s energy, far from the true game, for many years, in order to buy you both time to cement the peace treaty. But with this round over, that time is running short once again. One way or another, the second Pattern must be dealt with, and I would rather leave this task to my offspring than to the powers.”  
  
“But what of the permanent Pattern-ghosts there?” Merlin anxiously blurted out. “My cousin’s, my dad’s?!”  
  
“You know perfectly well what they truly are,” Dworkin replied calmly, “but we cannot afford to lose this opportunity, not when we are finally established at both poles of existence. Of course there is risk involved; that is part of the game. I take no pleasure in losing any of you,” his piercing gaze softened for a moment as he took in their faces – but it hardened again like a diamond. “Which is why I am warning you this time. There is too much at stake for all of us,” he pointedly looked to Mandor again – then Fiona, and shuffled back over; Sarah could scarcely breathe! “You see, I am not unmindful of you all in my long absences,” he smiled again a bit deviously, “although, to be honest, the prospect is getting to be a bit of a nuisance; I have little time to devote thought elsewhere at present. And I have certainly not forgotten my favorite granddaughter,” he took Fiona’s right hand… and placed it over Mandor’s, which was resting on the arm of the chair, clasping them together! Both parties looked varying shades of astonished. “You have been gifted with too probing a mind to ever be truly happy and satisfied with a husband from Order,” he continued knowingly with an indulgent twinkle in his eyes, “and while I cannot guarantee how long your current happiness will last in the upcoming climate, I can foresee a certain length of peace ahead for both of you.” He glanced sideways at Mandor with narrowed eyes and a secretive little lip-smile. “And you thought you’d met her by chance.”  
  
Mandor Sawall’s mind was spinning at the implications: all that time, all those events, being carefully orchestrated by the eccentric little old madman standing in front of him! For once in his life, he found himself at a loss for words. “If I hadn’t…if we…” he faltered; Dworkin was grinning.  
  
“I think what he’s trying to say,” Sarah screwed up her nerve, “ is that sometimes it can be difficult to see the board for the pieces – isn’t that right, Lord Mandor?”  
  
Mandor looked up at her in surprise, and a slow crooked smile took his features as he began to genuinely laugh, closing his eyes.  
  
“Very amusing, very appropriate,” Dworkin nodded, turning to her, “the dancer and the dance. Try not to enter the dance again of your own accord,” he pointed at her in warning, “you will find the steps becoming far too tricky for a novice. Well,” he addressed the group, “I must be getting back; it’s nearly midnight in the Dancing Mountains and my opponent will be waiting to hear how it all turned out, though I think he will not appreciate my tipping his hand this far in telling you of him. Still, know that I would not acknowledge his use as the Logrus’ agent if I did not like and respect him, and vice-versa, I imagine. Goodbye!”  
  
And without any ado, he simply shuffled back through the wall!  
  
“I think I’ll take you up on that offer for a drink if it’s still standing,” Merlin practically collapsed into the king’s chair, burying his face in his hands. “Why can’t our problems ever be nice and straightforward? If this means what I think it does, it’ll just devastate Dad – if I can reach him without delving that third multiverse; Ghost hasn’t even started cataloging it yet!”  
  
“I’d say take your complaint straight to the source,” Random recrossed the room to the sideboard, pouring another drink, “but he just left.”  
  
“And what do you intend to do about us?” Fiona pointedly asked. “Surely you wouldn’t dare stand against a union our own grandfather has devised?”  
  
Random came back with the glass, nudging Merlin, who took it, nodding thanks as he sat back up. “Dworkin has always had his own private reasons for everything he plots - sometimes I still wonder just how sane he really is – but I think it’s safe to say that he isn’t concerned with the extreme socio-political difficulties posed by such a marriage. Complicated statesman-shit is my least favorite part of this job.”  
  
“Hear, hear,” Merlin toasted the sentiment, taking another sip. “Oh – Sarah, while we’ve got a minute I’d better undo that translation spell; it wasn’t crafted to last and I’m not sure how it’ll break down in that ring, especially with what else it’s carrying,” he beckoned to her, taking the hand it was on, placing the stone to the spikard again.  
  
“What exactly is imprinted in there?” she inquired a bit warily; there had been certain effects, but they weren’t overpowering and far from adverse, as far as she could tell.  
  
Merlin took a moment longer to analyze the other contents, probing it with a single strand of energy from his own power ring; Sarah noticed the extra force immediately and marveled that the king of Chaos could stand to wear such a thing all the time!  
  
“Maturity, basically,” he looked a little surprised, letting go of her, “and drive. Not a bad combination, actually.”  
  
Meanwhile, Random had been giving his sister and her fiancé permission to withdraw – but not from the palace.  
  
“…we’re going to have to review your individual assets apart from your inherited dukedom, against the event that your Council may see fit to strip you of your title for this, as well as the necessary security clearances and trying to analyze what-in-the-worlds blood-type you have for physical compatibility concerns for children – all the fun stuff,” the king of Amber gave a bitter lip-smile; standing, Mandor towered over him. “I’m not letting you leave until we’ve begun straightening some of this out, and then it will be necessary for you to start making the proper contacts on your end aware of your future intentions with us. We will adjourn downstairs to the sitting room adjacent to the Yellow Room in half-an-hour.  
  
“Yes, your Majesty,” Mandor executed a courtly bow worthy of him.  
  
“And Fi?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Keep a better eye on him till then.”  
  
The princess smiled brightly at him, dropping a slight curtsey, then pulled Mandor out of the now-open door, past the guards and down the hall; Sarah found herself quietly following the two kings out of the room.


	17. The Third Step

Chapter 17 – The Third Step  
  
The eternal struggle of Chaos and Order, superhumans and ‘shadow’ humans and ghosts of shadows: the whole mess had Sarah Williams of Shadow Earth feeling very small and insignificant… but then one of Random’s palace guards quietly cleared his throat to get her attention, breaking her bleak reverie, and handed her her carryall; she had forgotten to grab it from beneath the bench in the king’s sitting room.  
  
“Thanks,” she said quietly, taking it from him and shouldering it cross-body once more. The thing was going to make a rather useful memento.  
  
Home. She had to be going home – it was over, wasn’t it? Her part, anyway? Merlin and Random were talking together just a few paces ahead of her. For one wild moment she thought of slipping away from them and exploring the rest of the castle… then thought better of it; she’d been in quite enough trouble for one lifetime as it was. She subconsciously fidgeted with the ring on her finger – and suddenly remembered, dashing after the two kings down the hallway.  
  
“Your Majesty?” she addressed Random; they had just commenced descending a large flighted staircase.  
  
He glanced back, continuing to walk. “Yes?”  
  
“I never got the chance to thank you for this,” she held her hand with the ring up.  
  
He smirked, looking ahead again. “I’ll pass your gratitude along to Queen Vialle; the item was her idea.”  
  
She had been right!  
  
“Did it actually help any?” he inquired, sounding mildly curious.  
  
“Kind of – I mean, it didn’t do anything really strong or obvious, but it cut down on the distortion and confusion some, helped me to focus on what I needed to be doing in there.”  
  
Random paused in mid-step for a second. “Interesting,” was all he said though, and that muttered. They reached the second-floor landing and left the stairs, turning left down a side hallway.  
  
“Well,” she ventured, as long as nothing important seemed to be going on at the moment and she had his attention, “if this ‘round’ is over, who won? It didn’t sound all that clear-cut to me.”  
  
Merlin had ducked into what had to be his official guest apartments in the castle, just to their left at the branching end of the corridor ahead of them; he had the key.  
  
“It would’ve initially been a point for the Pattern,” Random began, making a right turn at the juncture – only to see Fiona and Mandor brazenly making out in the middle of the next passage! “But seeing that I’m about to lose yet another sibling to Chaos, offhand I’d say nobody,” he sighed, producing a soft pack of cigarettes from his breastpocket and tapping the edges packed against his palm.  
  
“Everyone,” Merlin corrected, re-emerging from his doorway sans the dark crown. “You can look at the situation as a unified neutral or as a divided set of victories. Agree to disagree, Uncle?”  
  
Random gave a scoffed laugh, but embraced his nephew; there was something almost strangely cosmic about that brief, shared moment of mutual affection and respect between the figureheads of the two opposing powers of existence. But the split-second of universal balance was already over.  
  
“You’ve got a room, Fi!” Random shouted at his sister. “You could at least have the decency to use it!”  
  
The princess leisurely detached herself from the Chaos lord’s mouth; she had been standing on tip-toe (she was only about five feet tall) and he was still smiling down at her.  
  
“You told me I must keep a better eye on him,” she coyly shot back,” and I assumed that you wouldn’t trust me with him in private just now.”  
  
“I’d better get you out of here quick before anything else happens,” Merlin motioned Sarah aside, readying his spikard. “Peace never seems to last longer than about five seconds in Castle Amber whenever two or more of my aunts and uncles occupy the same room! One way or another, we’ll keep in touch with you – I still have to compensate you for your services to Chaos, after all. Your Majesty, is that program of yours still going, where the Crown finances college for deserving, promising Amberites? Plan A on our end fell through, and she’s easily rendered as much service to you as to me, if not more. What do you think?”  
  
“That usually implies that they’ll be coming back to Amber to work,” Random crossed his arms – then slightly shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll add the possibility to the official list of discussion topics for this visit.” He gave Fiona a fast, sharp look, then retreated back down the side hall, taking the last flight of stairs to the ground-floor below.  
  
“We’ll talk scholarships,” Merlin addressed Sarah again, “in two years’ time, Earth-reckoning; don’t be surprised if I look significantly older the next time you see me. Be thinking about where you want to go; this isn’t an opportunity afforded to many – his Majesty’s program is a very generous one, with all expenses paid regardless of the institution. You can start practicing your handwritten thank-yous in Thari in the meantime. Have a good life, Sarah,” he raised his hand to activate the transport.  
  
“Wait!” she stopped him, looking down the passage to where Mandor was leaning against a closed door to the left, murmuring into Fiona’s ear, tracing the nape of her exposed neck with the back of one finger.  
  
Merlin sighed and laughed a little, shaking his head. “Go on, then, break it up.”  
  
Sarah self-consciously crossed the large stretch of hallway between the king of Chaos and her former guardian; when Mandor looked up and saw her coming, a slight teasing smile of familiarity touched his lips.  
  
“Lord Mandor,” she quietly addressed him; the formality still felt awkward after almost a year of just calling him by his first name.  
  
“Sarah,” he inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Patterner,” he added; the emphasis made it sound almost like a light insult – but then he genuinely smiled. “Our power never really suited you well, anyway; you couldn’t even metabolize it properly – I had no idea you were experiencing all that, or I would have been looking for a way to mitigate the effects sooner. Lord Suhuy told me of your plight.”  
  
“Mandor,” Fiona looked up at him, playful interrogation in her tone, “was this your top-secret assignment all that time?”  
  
“As you yourself state,” he affirmed, “albeit partially declassified at this point, at least on this side – almost no-one in the Courts still knows who she truly is,” his ice-blue eyes fixed on Sarah, mock-accusatory. “Most of her arcane training is patently useless now, but shadow-walking is far easier using the Order paradigm it would seem, and she should still be able to manage her trumps decently,” he glanced down at her hip hollister.  
  
Sarah couldn’t help but notice where his attention was, and she lightly kicked the stone floor, looking away uncomfortably. “I… sort of… lost them.”  
  
“You what?” he exclaimed before forcing himself to take a deep breath, closing his eyes a moment. “Where did you last have them?” he sighed.  
  
“The Labyrinth,” Sarah winced at his reaction, “and it wasn’t like I dropped or misplaced them or anything – the whole pack came to life! They could move and talk all by themselves, but it wasn’t a true contact, it didn’t feel right! They were flying all around me, chattering at me, performing magic on my behalf so I could escape a bad situation – that was when I heard Dworkin. They were life-size the last time I saw them; the portrait of you told me what to do!”  
  
The princess appeared genuinely intrigued, although perhaps not quite as surprised as Mandor, oddly enough. “That definitely sounds like one of Grandfather’s spells,” she remarked, “but not entirely. What are the rules for taking an already magical item through the Logrus?” she queried Mandor.  
  
But he just shook his head. “It isn’t done; the results are far too unpredictable – we are all advised against doing so. A few ancient Chaos lords met their deaths by attempting such a thing: their previously reliable and functional power items were rendered completely uncontrollable.” He looked back to Sarah, seeming pacified. “It is well, then – they are safely hidden within the tendrils of the Logrus,” he nodded. Then glanced at her carryall, a little concerned. “Have you noticed any unusual behavior with anything else you brought through this time?”  
  
Sarah shook her head. “I think going through the Pattern right after must’ve cancelled out whatever I could’ve picked up. I haven’t even experienced any flashbacks from the circuit.”  
  
“You were unbelievably lucky to have made it through that juggernaut at all. Which still leaves me wondering…” He studied her eyes for a moment, disbelief clearly written in his own. “You’re well beyond my jurisdiction at this point; I may never know.” But the mood passed quickly. “His Excellency can still contact you, of course, if the need arises. I believe Lord Suhuy may have made a copy of that trump of you for his own purposes, although I’m not entirely certain.”  
  
“Yeah, about him… did you know?”  
  
“Not at all,” he gave a small, rueful smile. “He’s never let on all these years, but I can’t say it’s a terrible shock to me, having known him nearly all of my life. High priests of all stripes have their share of secrets; this can only be one of his. On the other hand, such information has potential for many uses, some of which in this case could be beneficial to me; I have no doubt that Dworkin Barimen will openly gloat over just who all was in the room at the time, who he told – such a move is always calculated. It seems that neither of us has reason for imminent worry on that count, though,” his gaze drifted to the princess.  
  
“I know perfectly well you’re thinking of my use as an insurance policy right now,” Fiona lightly reprimanded him, crossing her arms. “Just remember that, too, can go both ways, my lord, if my opinion of you should ever falter.” The delivery was serious enough, but there was a sparkle of challenge in the lady’s bright green eyes, almost a flirt of a dare. Sarah sincerely hoped this Amberite princess knew what she was doing, that she could really handle being attached to a man like Mandor… but then they smiled at each other like two conspiratory great white sharks!  
  
_Then again…_ “So… I’m a Patterner now.”  
  
“Technically, if not in active practice,” Fiona answered, “although in truth you were one to start out with already, being of Shadow Earth.”  
  
“I should caution you, however,” Mandor added, “that if you ever do decide to openly ‘fight for the Blinding Light’ that Chaosian agents will be dispatched to stop you – we still know where you live. Under other circumstances, it might even be me, since I know you well enough to anticipate you, if not still have sufficient influence to able to sway you to a degree,” he smirked.  
  
“But I could, say, read the Book of the Unicorn if I wanted to?”  
  
Mandor’s light eyebrows raised a little. “I suppose, should you desire to – there was never any proscription against it even before, since you are not a registered member of Chaos. From what I’ve been told, there are some fairly beautiful passages in certain sections. Just be aware that it is all written with a certain… twist to it.”  
  
“The twist of the Horn, you mean?” Sarah ventured jestingly. Fiona looked mildly scandalized.  
  
Mandor was carefully eying his fiancé. “I would have never stated it quite so bluntly… but yes,” he very quietly laughed – and was instantly slapped on the arm for doing so! “Hey,” he caught Fiona’s hand.  
  
“As if the Book of the Serpent isn’t completely twisted around!” the princess rejoindered.  
  
The Chaos lord gave one of his rare shrugs. “The power I personally care about is standing right here,” he brought the back of her hand to his lips, reverently kissing it, “and I believe she’s growing impatient for us to remove downstairs.”  
  
“Oh, say goodbye to the girl properly already! Even I know you have more of a heart than that,” she pulled out of his grasp teasingly. “I’ll be waiting,” she smiled at him – but it was mostly in her eyes – as she walked away from them, the rest of the way down the corridor in the opposite direction, turning right at the end.  
  
“Foreign ambassador?” were the first words out of Sarah’s mouth the moment Fiona Barimen vanished around the corner.  
  
“Once,” Mandor responded distantly; he had yet to turn back, “but the event is ancient history now.”  
  
“So… when are you and the princess taking the plunge?”  
  
He looked back to her now – confused.  
  
“Getting hitched? Tying the knot? The noose?”  
  
Still confused.  
  
“Well, what is the joking euphemism for getting married in Chaos? Nobody ever told me!”  
  
Recognition immediately registered in his features as he glanced at the ceiling for a second, smiling.  
  
“Swallowing the Tail,” he made interlocking concentric rings out of his pointer-fingers and thumbs – then made the circles smaller and smaller until they were squished together tightly.  
  
Sarah blinked. “Oh! Like ouroboros serpents!” she laughed.  
  
“Exactly.” He stopped smiling, though, lowering his hands. “I honestly don’t know. There’s simply so much red tape involved with such a union. One or the other of us could be facing some form of political exile for even wishing to enter into this. If we can ever get all of the necessary treaties hammered out and all the legalese dealt with before the next round of cosmic catastrophes, you have a standing invitation to our wedding; as much as it will irritate certain people, it will have to be an unreligious civil ceremony, so no problems for you there,” he gave a bittersweet little smile. “If you ever find Gryll in his larger riding size standing at your front door, you’ll know what’s going on.”  
  
“You’d better make it my bedroom window if I’m still living at him; my stepmother would have a heart-attack on the spot if she saw him!” she laughed.  
  
“I’ll make a note of that.”  
  
There was a beat of uncertainty, of mutual knowledge unsaid. Sarah broke eye-contact.  
  
“I think I’m glad my real dad didn’t stick around, if he’s anything like Prince Julian,” she admitted quietly, staring at the front of Mandor’s foreign-substance-fabric jacket. “At least Robert actually cares about us, even if he is sort of clueless sometimes,” she rolled her eyes with a sad half-smile.  
  
And glanced back up at a man she had once thought of like a surrogate father, many conflicting emotions striving together within her chest: wariness and trust, respect and defiance, love and real fear. The enemy who had been her friend. There was just too much.  
  
He opened his arms for her with a lightly querying expression, like ‘well?’ “I am currently unarmed,” he qualified. Sarah smirked a little in spite of herself.  
  
_Oh, what the hell…_  
  
She stepped into his embrace, hugging him tightly anyway, hearing his steady heartbeat as he held her close, caressing her hair one last time.  
  
“I’m proud of you, Earth-child,” he whispered in her ear – and after a second added, “I’m glad you’re still… _here_.”  
  
Sarah knew that the first statement was probably just uttered for her benefit, that he had intuited at this close of range that she had been wanting and needing to hear it – for ages – but that last… that was real, and it contained almost more than he could say aloud: _I’m glad you chose to stay a few minutes longer, with me._  
  
_Darn it, I wasn’t going to cry this time_ , she thought as treacherous tears started to well up in her eyes. _I’m gonna miss you._ “What in the worlds am I supposed to do now?” she laughed a little desperately through her emotion.  
  
Mandor lightly tapped her left temple with his pointer-finger. “Remember. Remember, apply, learn – repeat forever. Ultimately, it’s all any of us can do.” He pulled away from her, cupping her face in his hands, wiping her tears aside with his thumbs, regarding her reaction with almost an odd, satisfied amusement. She had seen this expression on him many times before, but she had never really known what it meant.  
  
“Oh, what?” she dared now, beginning to smile, too.  
  
His own turned just a touch jaded. Alien.  
  
“I simply conditioned your emotional responses toward me far too well,” he finally admitted, letting go of her. “You’ll be all right, though,” he silently mouthed, still smiling like that. It added back a little of his sinister aspect. He would’ve never told her that if he had thought she would be of any further use to him; the honesty hurt nothing now. And…  
  
_You’re trying to make me hate you again so this doesn’t hurt so bad_ , she realized, on the verge of crying some more.  
  
He quirked one snowy eyebrow. “You distracted me; I nearly forgot I was carrying this.” He reached up to his right shoulder and Sarah forgot to breathe as something black and bulky with black straps separated out of the side of his jacket, looking like a giant version of mitosis! He held it out for her: it was a black leather backpack. Sarah took it from him; the thing was heavy. She knelt to open it.  
  
“You left some personal possessions behind at my residences,” he remarked. “I’m afraid the hoverboard and the music machine would not operate on your home shadow since they run on Chaos magic, but the rest should serve nicely enough.”  
  
It was her books! The Lizard-land tomes, her sketchbook and pencils (with several new color sketches inside that were not hers, including a few landscapes of her private pocket-shadow, the view of the sky from there), a book of Thari grammar and vocabulary along with all of her graded homework, two novels she had liked, a thin volume of ‘classical’ Chaosian poetry… and one book she had never seen before.  
  
“You didn’t find this one,” he commented with a wry smirk, “because I kept it in my bedroom.”  
  
It was a guide on… how to literally grow and raise humanoid Order children?! In every stage of development, starting in a laboratory-style ‘utero’ phase and continuing on to physical adulthood?! Scanning the table of contents in disbelief, she saw that it covered everything from which Chaosian and pseudo-Order foods had to be provided in what combinations at which growth levels, to ‘bonding’ and ‘imprinting’ techniques, especially ones not instinctively natural to a Chaosian!  
  
“Parts of it may prove useful to you, should you ever choose to reproduce. I don’t believe I shall be needing it again,” Mandor said quietly – then glanced over to his right; Merlin was walking towards them.  
  
“Are we about finished here?” the king asked them. “Sorry to have to hurry this along, but a couple of the guards on sentry duty are starting to get suspicious.”  
  
“Just now, your Excellency,” Mandor answered; Sarah was standing back up, hoisting the leather backpack over her own shoulder, then fully donning it to better distribute the weight. Without those two oversized tomes, it would actually be fairly comfortable to wear. “I was about to send her home myself.”  
  
Merlin looked slightly dubious. “I had planned on using the spikard – remember her double, too? You’re sure you can do that?”  
  
“No, but I know someone who can,” he smiled deviously; before Merlin could stop him, Mandor summoned up a large Logrus portal and reached inside with his right arm! Half-a-second later, he took a few paces backward from it, leading out a gorgeous young woman with long, curled ruby-red hair and bright cerulean eyes! She wore a beautiful many-tiered white evening gown loaded with ruffles, along with a ruby diadem upon her brow that was faceted in the shape of a heart; smaller ones bespangling her magnificent dress. She looked like a queen, but she appeared somewhat bewildered by her current circumstances; the portal vanished on its own.  
  
“Oh, my!” she exclaimed, glancing about her; she had a lovely soprano voice, too. “Where am I?”  
  
“You’ll be in the dungeon if you’re caught!” Merlin irritatedly scolded Mandor, wondering what in the worlds had gotten into him. “Come on!”  
  
Their small party rushed down the hall to the turning with the stairs, but Merlin led them to the right instead, into his apartments, locking the door behind them, spontaneously igniting the oil lamps magically, instantly triggering a déjà vu-like sensation as well as nostalgia in Sarah. This set of rooms had been set aside for his private use when visiting Amber, long before he became a king. “Did you just decide you had a death wish today, Mandor?! Surely there’s got to be a saner way for you to get in touch with your ‘wild ‘n’ crazy’ side!”  
  
“It’s called a goodbye present,” the Chaos lord levelly responded. “May I present to you both Glinda the Good Witch of the South,” he announced grandly, his eyes as bright as the lady’s jewels!  
  
It was all Sarah could do not to gawk slack-jawed! And to think that he had just blindly pulled this radiant phantom out of Shadow! _The South… oh, that’s right, he only knows the book version, and it has to be a nicely illustrated Thari edition besides!_ She suddenly thought, still astounded.  
  
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Merlin quietly laughed, shaking his head, walking back toward the entrance. “I think I’d better take care of Shara myself. If you don’t send this nice lady back where you found her I’m telling Aunt Fi,” he half-warned with a pointed look, opening the door.  
  
Mandor nodded. “The moment this is over. Thank you, Merlin.”  
  
The door closed.  
  
“I believe you have the advantage of me… Mandor?” Glinda cautiously ventured to address the unknown, white-haired man standing before her. They were all in Merlin’s open sitting room, standing on a large oriental rug with a hunting scene woven into it.  
  
The Chaos lord gave a rather dashing smile (for him), bowing with a flourish, taking the witch’s hand and lightly kissing the back of it. “I hope I did not pull you away at an inopportune moment,” he straightened again. “I have been known by many names, but you and your people call me Oz,” he crossed his arms, gazing down at her imperiously, suddenly taller than normal.  
  
Glinda gasped, her eyes wide. “Great Wizard!” she exclaimed, curtsying low to the floor. “What did your honor wish of me?”  
  
“Rise, Glinda the Good,” Mandor eased into the part, sparing a lightning-fast sideways glance at Sarah, who was still watching the tableau in disbelief! “Are you still in possession of the slippers?”  
  
“The magic slippers of the Witch of the East? Yes, I can conjure them here at once. But what could you possibly need them for? Oh, forgive my impertinence – I did not mean to question you!”  
  
Mandor smiled archly. “Indeed, they are not for me – I travel at will most places – but I have a young friend here who is in need of their services. Of course I know of Dorothy, which is why I called upon you: this child, too, has fallen from the stars and desires to return home. Other duties prevent me from accompanying her thence myself.”  
  
Glinda fixed her unearthly blue eyes on Sarah with interest. “Is she also from Kansas?”  
  
“No, but the two stars are in the same galaxy,” the Chaos lord effortlessly lied, in turn looking at Sarah – but in amusement. “What was the name of your star again?”  
  
“New York,” Sarah answered, feeling like she was dreaming. _He can’t be serious! This is actually going to work?!_  
  
“Very well,” Glinda immediately conceded. “What is your name, my dear?” she smiled sweetly, beckoning the girl closer. Mandor had stepped into the bedroom section of the suite - there was the unmistakable sound of a window being opened, extra light coming through the doorway – but he came back almost immediately.  
  
“Sarah Williams,” she said, approaching the witch. Fictional or not, this lady made quite an intimidating sorceron in her own right! If she were any differently natured, she would be more than a little scary.  
  
As it was, she was still smiling; she had produced a staff-length thin silver wand out of nowhere, with the sigil that started the word ‘South’ in Thari as the tip ornamentation.  
  
“Wait a moment,” Mandor interrupted her. “Sarah, you had better remove and pack those boots if you don’t want to lose them.”  
  
“…oh. Right.” She quickly slipped them off and folded them small (the leather of the uppers was very soft), noting the place where the left one had gotten slashed – only to realize that the cuts weren’t as long or deep as they had been before!  
  
“Those are Chaos-morphic leather?” Mandor asked upon seeing her reaction.  
  
“Probably; I don’t know for sure where the Ghostwheel got them.”  
  
“They are,” he answered definitively, “the hide retains the ability to heal from all but the most serious injuries in about a couple of linear weeks, local-time. Let them rest and they’ll be like brand new before you know it.”  
  
The boots went in the carryall; Glinda was obviously curious, but politely holding her tongue. Once Sarah was in her stocking feet, the witch summoned the slippers, touching her wand to Sarah’s toes – and at once she found herself spontaneously shod in dainty-looking silver slippers with pointed toes that curled slightly upward; they gleamed in the natural light from the window. She looked up at Mandor, all her emotions readable at once. His own, by comparison, were totally unreadable, perfectly controlled.  
  
“Perhaps you’d better just hold the larger pack in front,” he suddenly decided, helping her to take it off, placing it in her arms instead. “The added ballast should help with the landing, but I think it would be better not against your spine. There.”  
  
_Landing?_  
  
Glinda kissed her on the forehead. “Just knock your heels together three times,” she was instructing, “and announce where you would go, and the Silver Slippers will deposit you there in only three steps.”  
  
Sarah did as she was told, clicking her heels just like the movie, but she knew she was still forgetting something…  
  
“Close your eyes before you think of your home, Earth-child,” Mandor crookedly smiled; there was a note of warning in his voice.  
  
She did so, automatically obeying him one final time. “Take me home to Nyack, New York.”  
  
Then she remembered: these were the Silver Slippers, like the book – not the gently-wake-up-in-bed-muttering Ruby Slippers, mind you, the Silver Slippers!  
  
_Oh no, no way_ , she thought as her house on Earth came unbidden to memory, perfectly clear in her mind’s eye, _not the stupid rocket-_  
  
**_SHOES!!!_** – she was hurtling through the air at an impossible speed, the wind screaming in her ears! Light – dark – split-seconds of various sounds and smells assaulted her senses like a hellride – of course, this was what Mandor knew! Her right foot had just touched ground somewhere – the first step! She clutched the backpack to herself for dear life, mentally repeating the mantra from the movie – ‘there’s no place like home’ – praying that she would make it! Left foot contact! She tried to estimate when the final step would be and cracked her left eye just a split-second before…  
  
And screamed, seeing herself plummeting to her own backyard from ten floors up! She magically landed on her feet with her knees slightly bent, but the propulsive force of her previous speed knocked her down; dropping the pack, she rolled halfway across the lawn before she could get stopped, just a few feet from the wooden fence!  
  
…panting, gazing up at the blue Orderish sky, the ‘normal’ green trees, smelling the freshly-cut stationary grass beneath her as she waited for the world to stop spinning around her…  
  
And then she cried, first in relief: she had made it! She had survived everything. She was home at last. And then from the loss – stranded alone on earthly soil, as the bards of long ago would have said. It was certifiably nuts, but she really was going to miss all of that, all those people; her own world suddenly felt very small and limited compared to the greatly expanded reality she had grown accustomed to. She suddenly thought of Prince Corwin then – the real one – how he had been marooned on Earth for nearly nine centuries. How it hadn’t stopped him from living many full and fulfilling lives, hadn’t stopped him from being himself – not really, not how it counts. No matter where she was, she was a citizen of a multiverse now; nothing could take that away from her. She could even still walk in Shadow, though she knew she wouldn’t have the nerve to try it again for a very long time.  
  
_‘Remember…’_  
  
Sarah was slowly sitting up on her elbows, scolding herself for being such a crybaby – with how crazy time sped by in the Courts, she’s probably be seeing Mandor again in a month or less – when she finally noticed: her nice Chaosian wardrobe was simply covered in grass stains!  
  
“Aw, shit,” she muttered to herself, stiffly standing; the Silver Slippers were gone; she was just in those thin socks. _Good riddance!_ Certain fantasies just didn’t belong in ‘real life’, she mused, crossing the yard to the black leather backpack; it seemed to have survived the ordeal in one piece - relatively clean, too. Letting herself in through the back patio door, she removed her grassy stockings and tiptoed upstairs; she had absolutely no idea what time or day it was, but it appeared to be mid-afternoon from the position of the sun, maybe three or four? Just being able to guesstimate the time like that held bittersweet memories, too, now.  
  
Neither was she wrong: her bedside clock read 4:48 as she entered her room. Stripping out of the exotic garments and changing before she touched anything else (her old, oversized poet’s shirt with a pair of black leggings in a fit of mixed nostalgia), she stashed the expensive-looking backpack and its telling contents in the back of her closet, followed by the carryall and her now-empty trump hollister; she doubted that Shara had been making that kind of money just yet. Then changed her mind, extracting the Amber journal and pen, before burying the rest of it in a mound of stuffed animals.  
  
And did a double-take: Shara had been rearranging in here! She hadn’t disposed of any of Sarah’s belongings, but some of the contents of this room had definitely been shuffled. The cubby-shelves mounted on the wall next to her bed were now filled with knick-knacks… including her old music box. Sarah smirked. Once she would’ve had a cow if somebody had done something like this without her knowledge; now she almost didn’t care – she still planned on working on this room herself. Leaving the new journal on her vanity, she crossed over to the bed and lifted the mattress, hoping Shara hadn’t hidden their diary too well. It wasn’t there; some digging under the far side of the bed next to the heat register turned it up, though – the girl had found a place to stash it in the box springs! Sarah quickly flipped to the last entry (she’d have to seriously study the thing later): the date was June 4, 1986. She had been gone just three days short of two months – as long as Mandor had planned on her being absent from her world in the first place. She closed up the small volume and put it back under the mattress where she used to keep it. And had to smile: she’d completely missed finals week! Hopefully Shara had gotten her good grades.  
  
_Shara._ She still couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the girl – how it had turned out – but it was pointless to dwell on it. Her shadow had gotten a nice vacation from her problems, even if she couldn’t remember it; that had to be worth some brownie points somewhere. Sarah only wished she could’ve talked to her again before she had to go…  
  
_No. It’s probably better that she doesn’t remember this_ , she brushed the selfish sentiment aside; not everybody could handle knowing stuff like this. It suddenly occurred to her that she still had the Ghostwheel’s exhaustively detailed, printed instructions on how to get to Shara’s New Yark, though, if Merlin hadn’t discovered them. _Maybe. Someday…  
_  
Taking a deep breath, she exited her room and went to the bathroom to freshen up; her hair was just a wreck and she still smelled of grass! Later, heading back downstairs, she could hear the TV on in the family room – sounded like one of her stepmother’s soap operas. Oh, goody, she thought sarcastically; she’d really been hoping she wasn’t going to have to deal with her for at least another hour. Sneaking into the kitchen, she tried to noiselessly open the door to the fridge.  
  
“Sarah, is that you?” she heard her stepmother from across the house. “I didn’t even hear you come in!”  
  
_No such luck_ , she quietly sighed as the woman walked into the room – and started upon seeing her.  
  
“Oh! You changed.” Sarah’s stepmother had always been a veritable fashion-plate for the nice, boring conservative look: she was currently wearing a nice, boring light teal short-sleeved blouse with a calf-length floral-print skirt to match and pumps (why did she always wear dress shoes?), her strawberry-blonde hair back in a French twist; Sarah could tell that she’d let it grow out a little.  
  
Karen Williams could also tell that there was something different about her stepdaughter beyond a seemingly abrupt reversion to her old eccentric tastes in clothes, but what precisely she couldn’t pin down.  
  
“That combination isn’t half-bad, actually,” she offered charitably with a tentative lip-smile, “but it needs a belt. If you’re hungry I’ll get you something; you don’t need to be ruining your dinner.”  
  
_I’m definitely home_ , Sarah sat down in one of the chairs at the small, circular kitchen table, resting her elbows on it, her head in her hands, suddenly feeling dead-spent.  
  
Her stepmother noticed as she turned back from the cupboard.  
  
“Sarah, what’s the matter?” she asked concernedly, clicking her way across the hardwood floor.  
  
Sarah looked up at her tiredly; she was holding a glass of milk and a small plate. “Karen,” she sighed, “can we just say that today was the longest day on the face of Shadow Earth and leave it at that?”  
  
Her stepmother looked confused for a moment – and Sarah belatedly realized that she’d said ‘shadow’ out of habit! But Karen suddenly sighed with a patronizing little smirk, as if she’d just gotten it  
  
“Something went wrong with that group of boys you role-play ‘Dungeons and Dragons’ with,” she confidently deduced, setting down the glass and plate in front of Sarah; there were two homemade cookies on it, some kind of oatmeal-raisin-spice. When did her stepmother start baking? “I can’t say that I’m terribly surprised – none of them have ever sounded very mature to me. This isn’t anything serious that we need to know about, is it Sarah?”  
  
“No,” she shook her head, trying one. Wholegrain flour besides the oatmeal – were those tiny carrot shreds in there? Figured. It tasted okay, though.  
  
“You know, I do worry a bit about your playing around with all that dark stuff sometimes, but as long as it’s just pretend to you… I suppose there are situations I’d be more worried about at your age, if you were hanging out with partiers instead. Was it just trouble with the game then today?”  
  
Since when had Karen ever cared about anything she was interested in?! Sarah had to rapidly remind herself that Shara had really cozied up to this woman… and maybe she’d never given her much of a chance, either, she wearily conceded, covering her silence with a swallow of milk.  
  
“My side just lost a campaign we’d been waging for weeks,” she only half-bluffed, “because I lost my nerve and couldn’t let us win – the stakes were just too high; we’d have all winded up hating each other. So I took the fall – I’m out until the next round.” She had so much to catch up on, so many people she had to familiarize herself with in a hurry!  
  
Her stepmother just sighed and quirked a smile. “Well, I may not always understand you, Sarah, but I’m on your side, too. Remember that?”  
  
She nodded non-committally, stuffing her face with the other cookie.  
  
Karen clicked back out of the kitchen, murmuring to herself, “It couldn’t last, it just couldn’t last…” – she’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop for the last two months, ever since Sarah had seemed to wake up to reality one day out-of-the-blue. The dreamer was clearly still alive and well.  
  
And of course Sarah heard her; she quietly groaned, resting her head on the table instead. Back to the same old crapola.  
  
_No_ , she suddenly decided. Things would only be the same as before if she chose to do nothing differently; life here was already slightly different. In order to not be played upon, she had to be willing to play the game herself – she’d at least learned that much from her experience. Sitting back up, polishing off the milk, Sarah noticed movement in the doorway out of the corner of her eye: Toby had just toddled by! Quickly rinsing off her dishes, she ran down her little brother in the hall, scooping him up from behind, flying him around to make him laugh – but when he finally saw her face, he started to cry!  
  
“Oh, don’t be like that,” she soothed him, jogging him against her hip, “I’m going to be a better big sister from now on,” she whispered, kissing his pudgy cheek, “I promise.” Mandor’s book came to mind – it might be of use to her sooner than later! She commenced ascending the stairs with her baby brother in tow when Karen called after her again.  
  
“You’re still planning on babysitting for the Johnstons at seven tonight, right?”  
  
Sarah stopped where she was, closing her eyes for a moment. _Shara and her stupid babysitting gigs…_ “Yes.”  
  
“Just making sure you remembered – you disappeared this afternoon without telling either of us where you were going.”  
  
Sarah climbed the rest of the flight; she had to start boning up on that book right now, just as soon as she’d figured out who the Johnstons were – or where they even lived!  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Meanwhile, on the far side of the spectrum of existence, in the Ways of Sawall in the Courts of Chaos, the chained figured of a pale man stood under heavy guard by a half-dozen soldiers – albino, deathly white, red-eyed – before an equally white-haired man, seated upon an ornate black-lacquered high-backed chair with batwings carved into the top. Lord Mandor had dispatched private troops from the Sawall compound to track down and capture his distant, erring shadow-copy the moment he had arrived back home – but they didn’t have to search for him far: Jareth had been discovered upon the shadow-world that housed the final Logrus, openly arguing with Her at top volume just outside the walls, unable to re-enter, equally unable to leave that world on his own. He had fought them with all of his reserves, but in the end She ceased to support his power and he was tackled to the ground en masse, manacled hand and food, wrapped safely in the Chains of Deliverance, transported back to the Courts and presented to his original in this state.  
  
“All I ever wanted was to be like you!” he angrily screamed at Mandor. “Is that so terrible a crime?!”  
  
“Open high treason against the Logrus by an official protector is,” the seated Chaos lord uttered darkly, “but in light of other evidence pertaining to this case, I am not entirely convinced of your conscious guilt in attempting to abandon Her. At any rate, your position there will not be reinstated. Take him to one of the warded holding cells,” he instructed the guards, “release him from his bonds and see that he is adequately fed. I shall deal with him later.”  
  
The former Goblin King was forcibly removed from the Hearing Hall; the guards had to gag him as well to keep their prisoner from spitting at their lord! Merlin ambled into the room out of thin air as they sank through a ‘way’ in the floor.  
  
“Did I interrupt anything?”  
  
“Not in the least, your Excellency,” Mandor threw his foster-brother’s title at him just a little playfully, standing up, walking over to him across the deep-blue tiled causeway that floated in the middle of a starry void; the judicial hall at the Ways of Sawall had been constructed to be imposing, but the great dark ‘room’ rarely saw any kind of use anymore. “Sometimes I wonder that you even have the time for these short visits, let alone your own private affairs.” Together the two men rose through a different way in the middle of the space – hidden – and walked through a swampy wooded area, heading back toward the more habitable parts of the compound.  
  
“I don’t have time,” Merlin answered irritatedly, pushing drooping lichen aside. “I wish my Logrus-ghosts were as reliable and sane as my old man’s Pattern-double; I could really use two or three extra of me right now. Council’s back in session – it’s going to take weeks just to get caught up on the work I missed in just a few hours in Amber!”  
  
They walked straight on through a certain large dead tree with tiers of black fungus growing along the sides of the bleached, peeling truck – and emerged in one of the upper-floor sitting rooms in the more ‘modern’ section of the Ways, decorated darkly like always, but with a liquid ceiling, multicolored light gently filtering in from some source far above.  
  
“You still allow yourself to be manipulated by a sense of duty far too easily,” Mandor poured them both glasses of a neon-orange drink from a sideboard, coming over with them to the sofa that Merlin had commandeered. “Make the time, if what’s truly bothering you is as important as I think it might be. I certainly don’t envy your position for the moment, but you still have the power to do something about it. Or perhaps it has you,” he enigmatically smiled, handing Merlin his drink before seating himself alongside, taking a sip of his own. The substance had no Order analogue, but it provided a fiery burst of stability to the nerves without intoxication.  
  
“That’s just it; how far can I really act on my own to resolve the crisis with this Second Pattern without turning into a pawn for the Logrus again myself? Or is that a moot point anymore, with Great-Granddad and Uncle Suhuy playing ‘Supremacy’ with us all? Do we have any autonomy in this, do you think?”  
  
“We must,” Mandor answered definitively, “for if we had none, there would be no point in the powers nudging us in the desired directions.” He paused. “Your agents haven’t located Tekla, have they.” It wasn’t a question.  
  
Merlin sighed, taking a sip from his own glass, leaning back, closing his eyes. “She can’t be that good! Ghost’s been following her sloppy trail zigzagging across Shadow through some physically dangerous places, but he’s just lost her bio-signal – she could be hiding in a collapsing wormhole, she could’ve been spirited away to Undershadow by the Serpent, she could’ve become something’s lunch for all we know! Bottom line is she’s gone, and I’m not looking forward to having to explain that to Uncle Random.”  
  
“Try explaining your predicament to Suhuy instead, in his private capacity; he should at least be able to divine whether the lady is still in the Logrus’ good graces – that alone could narrow down your possible options considerably. And it will give you the opportunity to air your other personal misgivings also.”  
  
Merlin cautiously glanced at him; his elder foster-brother Mandor had always been a veritable fountain of good, sound advice. For the most part. “Who’s side are you on this cycle?” he bluntly ventured.  
  
“Why, yours, of course, Merlin.”  
  
“But in my capacity as the king of Chaos chiefly, though.”  
  
Mandor simply looked away. “Having divided loyalties as you do must render sleep difficult to come by some nights,” he casually observed, taking another sip of his drink before setting it aside on a floating end table. And smiled a little bitterly. “To be honest, I’m facing a much milder quandary myself at present, for the exact opposite reason.”  
  
“You found Jareth, you mean?”  
  
Mandor folded his hands, loosely crossing his ankles. “Almost too easily – the Logrus would not relinquish him out of spite; whatever he had tried to accomplish at the Second Pattern obviously failed. Oh, there’s no question that he was culpable in the attempted treason, but what I simply cannot seem to see clearly is whether his desperation for freedom was used by the Logrus in this long-range plot, or had She deliberately tortured him to the point that he would choose this, as She planned? Or did She even directly plant the idea in his subconscious Herself, then provide the agency to carry it out? It would be useless to question him on this point; even if he cooperated, I doubt he would know the answer. She obviously doesn’t want him back; if She had, I would’ve just left him there. I could toy with him at my leisure, of course, but frankly I’m not interested or irritated enough to bother with it.”  
  
_Could that possibly be a pang of conscience?_ Merlin thought almost in jest. _Nah – never._  
  
Or was it?  
  
“All the shadows desire to be as we are,” Mandor quietly mused aloud, catching Merlin a bit off-guard. “One of mine just had the nerve to go after it, to say so to my face just now. Isn’t there a Shadow Earth parable about attempting to fly with wings made of wax?”  
  
“There is – it’s ancient Greek,” Merlin nodded.  
  
Mandor slowly smirked. “You know, I just might grant his wish – the mundane part, anyway – as his punishment. Do you think a decade or so of ‘finishing school’ would make him more like me?” he smiled crookedly.  
  
“Man, that’s just cruel. But we’re talking ‘re-education’ here, too, right?”  
  
The Chaos lord nodded. “By the time he’s ready to be released again, he won’t be a threat to anyone. And he’ll be such a ladies’ man on the shadow I’ve a mind to relocate him to that I seriously doubt he’ll even care; adroit use of neurotransmitters can make for a powerful source of distraction.”  
  
Merlin couldn’t stifle his smile. “So, ultimately, you’re actually planning on being unwarrantedly nice to him. Because of Sarah.”  
  
Mandor reflexively glanced at his younger brother, genuinely surprised at his depth of vision this time – then relaxed again with a rueful little lip-smile.  
  
“I see your practice in dealing with the Council is serving you well,” he offhandedly complimented him. Then gazed far across the room, looking even more distant in thought, watching the reflections of the light dance across the floor.  
  
“It is strange,” he admitted at length, “how we can sometimes become attached to tentative shadow-people, how we can even come to care for them, still knowing what they are – what they are not. But I remember now that I’m preaching to the choir.”  
  
There was silence for a long time after that.  
  
Merlin stood first. “Well, my recess break has got to be over by now – I have to get back. Just thought I’d check in, see how things were going on this end.”  
  
“If I can be of any assistance, you know where to find me,” Mandor said, also rising to his feet. Then thought to add, “Did you have any plans for this evening?”  
  
“Nothing particularly exciting – just going over new cases alone. Why?” he smiled.  
  
“I was just thinking that if you didn’t have any pressing affairs, perhaps you could join me at Mandorways for dinner, just the two of us. For old times’ sake.”  
  
Merlin was still smiling. “You do miss that kid.”  
  
Mandor almost imperceptibly shrugged. “I would prefer to think of this as a chance for us both to relax and regroup before heading back out into the proverbial storm. Are you game?”  
  
“Sure, I’ll bite. Is a formal eight-o-clock linear all right for you? I fully expect today’s session to run late.”  
  
“Whenever is most convenient for your Excellency,” Mandor demurred.  
  
“Yeah, and remember you just asked for a one-on-one social call from your king – you really have to pull out the stops this time; I demand to be impressed,” Merlin added teasingly, knowing full well that this was his big brother’s favorite hobby, that he practically lived for challenges like this.  
  
Mandor smiled his crooked smile, rising to the occasion. “With pleasure, Merlin. With pleasure.”  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Much later that evening on Shadow Earth, in a certain residence in a northern suburb of New York City, a pen was furiously scribbling Thari script all by itself into a new green leather journal, brought all the way from the City of Amber – purchased with the intent of recording a teenage girl’s personal saga, placed on her vanity with the intention of inscribing it, and left there. Unlike the other possessions on her person when she travailed the Fixed Logrus – the Labyrinth – this already carried that intention, and so was charged with that power. What Sarah would do when she came home that night and discovered it remained to be seen – or, indeed, what she would do when the pen ran out of paper to write on (for it would never run out of ink.) But, for right now, it was busy recording an incredible story, even the parts she couldn’t remember or hadn’t ever known…  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Postlude (exit music): ‘Quicksand’, David Bowie, Hunky Dory  
  
(Lingering music: ‘Survive – Marius de Vries remix’, David Bowie, Hours…)  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________  
I know this one was a little off the beaten track, but thanks for reading, everybody! If you're curious as to just what happened on that infamous date between Mandor and Fiona, check out my 'Chronicles of Amber' short story Veneration (really chapter 7.5 'easter egg', but it didn't fit the tone and subject matter of this crossover.) **nudge** ;)


End file.
